


187

by A26



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternating Timeframes, Amputation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bombing, Calendar Boys, Conspiracy Theories, Crime Fighting, EREN YES, Endearing Fluff, Eren is sickeningly sweet, Firefighters, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Hange is a badass, Hange is not comedic relief, M/M, Medical Trauma, Organized Crime, POV Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Police, Sexy Detective Levi, Sexy Fireman Eren, So much Eren No
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-10-15 19:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A26/pseuds/A26
Summary: Levi Ackerman is an amazing detective/genius that delves a little too deeply into a case, putting him in a sticky situation that requires him to re-think how his entire life works.Aka the sexy fireman x sexy cop AU with too many B99 references that no one asked for but you're all getting anyway. You're welcome.





	1. Unmarked Packages

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing with the idea of writing this for about a year now. 
> 
> The first chapter is set in the present, the second will be the past, and it will alternate like that until the two meet.

My whole body feels dense and dull and heavy and the air is thick with smoke and dust. 

My back hurts and my heart is pounding with adrenaline. My ears, eyes and throat feel like they’re on fire. I can barely see past all of the thick smoke. 

I'm at work still, or what’s left of it after some sort of explosive went off in our office. I’m the Captain of the Trost precinct and I returned from my lunch break to all hell breaking loose, a package found on my desk ready to detonate as soon as I got back. 

The explosion threw me across the room, through a couple of desks and back against the wall below the windows which are all blown clean out. Right in time for a thick brick and metal archway to collapse onto my legs, rendering me both trapped as well as in excruciating pain. 

I can hear sirens after what feels like a lifetime. In reality it's only been a few minutes. It's a miracle I'm still conscious although it probably won't be for long. I try to sit up and check on my legs. The left is as broke as broke gets and the right I manage to wriggle free from beneath the beam. I regret that choice instantly as the right was clearly keeping more weight from the left, crushing it further. I clench my eyes shut and try to not inhale any more dust than I need to by gasping from the pain. 

I’m not walking out of here, that much is clear. Possibly not even alive. Every inch of my mind is trying to tell me instinctively to panic, but I keep reminding myself I've been trained for situations like this. Stay calm, and don’t move. Check your surroundings for any other explosives or casualties. 

What they don't teach you is how to withstand pain to this degree. It's like a burning white iron has been taken to every nerve in my foot. I don't see much blood though, I think the metal beam is cutting off circulation to most of it. 

I look around. Half the precinct is on fire, there are bodies but I can't see who they are amidst the smoke. There are a few lingering footsteps of people fleeing. It’s going to take a while for the fire department to get up here. I’m on the fifth floor and the precinct covers the whole building. I distinctly remember feeling multiple blasts rattling through the walls and floor. 

I doubt my ‘special delivery’ was the only one in the building so chances are they’ll be fighting fires plus a structurally unsound building, giving me even less time to get out of here alive. 

Moving isn't an option. My chest feels like it's on fire and my head hurts. It's hard to think rationally, so I close my eyes for a moment and groan, trying to collect myself. The building creaks ominously and I curse. 

I wonder who will look after my plants if I die. I hadn't exactly asked Farlan to do it. Hadn't expected to not go home today. Maybe Hange will do it. He's always dying for an excuse to nose around my apartment. Maybe Hange is a bad idea. Hange is always a bad idea. 

I groan out loud, more out of exasperation for my shitty situation than the thought of relying on Hange to water my plants. The building is probably gonna give any minute now. I have to move to the stairwell if I'm gonna have any shot of not getting crushed to death when it collapses. 

I tilt my head to the side to get a look at how far the door is and I pull my vest up from under my shirt and hold it against my nose. The way looks reasonably clear, but it's the opposite side of the room. My office is at the back on the side, furthest from everything. I don't even have any radios nearby. If I can’t make it to the staircase I’ll have to find a desk. Most of them have been blown over. 

Shit. 

I manage to sit up and I cough harshly, the smoke overwhelming me. I hunch over and push with my right foot and arms, dislodging the beam just enough to gingerly pull my left ankle free. It's a funny angle and feels as mangled as it looks. It hurts too much to touch, but I have to try and get myself across the floor before the roof or floor gives.

I manage to roll onto my stomach and start crawling slowly across the floor, dragging myself through burnt paper and shards of glass. My jacket shields my forearms of most of the glass although I can feel it scratching painfully at my chest through my shirt. There’s probably a good few small shards sticking out of my face and neck from the initial blast. 

The building creaks again, groaning loudly in complaint at the damage and I can hear voices yelling and gunshots through the broken windows. 

Perhaps the perps hadn't left, taking on the police downstairs at ground level. They’d have to be stupid to attack a police station. 

Then again criminals aren't always known for their intelligence. 

I pull myself with all of my strength across the floor until I meet a chair lying on it's side. I'm halfway across the room and I hear a loud crack. I don't have enough time to look before a huge chunk of the ceiling falls, trapping both of my legs. 

I bury my face into my arms as I cry out in pain. My left is crushed again and I feel my right thigh sear. I bite into my sleeve to try to brace myself as I'm wracked with pain. I've never known anything like it. It’s much like the time I was stabbed, but only instead of a pressure followed by the pain, it’s just searing pain from the get-go. It’s awful. 

I turn and find my right thigh impaled with a steel bar just above the knee and a small amount of rubble is covering my left leg. I can't bring myself to move, face buried back against my arms as my eyes water from the pain and the smoke. 

I don't remember much after that, I must black out for a while. I don't know how long for but I come back to still in the same place. How I'm still alive I have no idea but it seems the building is still in one piece. It seems the smoke all billowed out from the windows. 

It's eerily quiet though. 

I can't hear the flames roaring or the building creaking and some more of the roof fell in front of me while I was unconscious. I can tell because there’s a sliver of sunshine peeking through and hitting the floor by the door. My jaw feels so tense from where it’s been clenched for God knows how long. I try to loosen it up a little but it doesn’t offer much reprieve from the ache in the rest of my body. 

My right leg is throbbing something nasty and I can barely feel my left foot and ankle. My chest tingles a little bit where I’m laying in pieces of glass and scraps of office stationery. There are charred pieces of police reports, melted staplers, keyboards and paperclips everywhere. There’s a shattered frame to my right housing a family photo of one of my detectives. 

I press my forehead against the floor and tilt my head back to take a look at my surroundings. The fire has dwindled even if things are still a little hot, and the chair is still in front of me. I try to push it to the side but it’s heavy and it shoots pain down my side and back, making my right thigh burn. It’s easier to stay still. 

I can just abouts tilt myself to check around the chair to see a pile of debris blocking the doorway to the stairs. My hearing has stopped being quite so fuzzy from the initial blast and while things still sound like I’ve got headphones in without any music playing, it’s definitely clearer. Damn though, no radios nearby. Not even my phone in my pocket. I left it in my desk when I left for lunch. 

I hear footsteps on the floor below me. I fumble in the dim light for a piece of brick and tap it against the metal leg of the chair, creating a soft but audible clanging noise. I’m praying this gets the attention of whoever is downstairs. It’s gotta be the fire department, I doubt whoever attacked the precinct is still alive after that. 

I’m really hoping someone hears me. Hange cannot be allowed to wreak havoc on my plants. They’re like children to me. 

I hear yelling downstairs and the footsteps move to what sounds like further away. I whimper and lean my head back against the floor. There’s blood in my eyes and I stink of sweat, blood and burning. I’m tired and I hurt all over and I can’t feel my left leg anymore. 

At least it can't get any worse. 

“Hello?” I hear someone’s voice echo from the staircase. “It's the fire department,” he yells. Thank fuck. I groan against my arms with relief. I can't see much past the rubble but at least I've got a shot of getting out now. I hear slow footsteps grow closer and stop. 

“Is anyone up here?” He calls across the charred, ruined room, the epicentre of one of the blasts. I groan quietly as I force my sore throat to work and resort to tapping my rock against the chair instead. My arms feel like jelly but I push through the ache to get this guy’s attention. 

“We’ve got a live one up here guys!” He yells presumably back downstairs. I hear a bit of pattering and stomping and it seems to be taking forever with their quiet talking amongst themselves. Right when I'm about to lose my damn marbles one of them speaks up, addressing me. 

“Can you tell me your name?” I've just managed to tilt myself to see through the crap on the floor. I can see his leg crouch as he bends over to try and spot me. Once he does he smiles slightly with relief but it's soon washed away with concern. He's still quite far away. 

“Levi.” I just abouts manage. 

“Captain Levi?” He says, sounding surprised. I nod once and grit my teeth. The prospect of getting free is making me itch. I've probably been stuck here for the best part of an hour. Maybe two. “I’m Eren Yeager, Sir, with the Trost FD.” 

“What’s the holdup?” I ask him. 

“The floor’s given out from you to me,” he explains. Fuck, so it can get worse. “How hurt are you Sir?” 

“Both legs are fucked. I'm pinned with a piece of steel.” 

“Yeah, I can see it from here. Just stay calm Sir, we’re getting you out of here.”

I groan again and Eren disappears for a moment, only to return with a long pole and a bottle of water which he guides across the hole I can't see and over to the chair in front of me, managing to get it between the legs and toward my grasp. I have to stretch a little to reach it but the twinge of pain is worth it as I uncap it and drink nearly all of it in one go. 

The rest I pour into my hand and rub across my face. The coolness provides a small amount of relief from the burns on my face and I groan with a strange sense of satisfaction at the sensation. 

“Better?” Eren asks. 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

“We’ve got a few guys downstairs setting up to get you down from there. Hold in there, Sir. It shouldn’t be long now. I’m going to come to you, please don’t move.” 

His reassurance does surprisingly well. I suddenly feel a sliver of hope. As he explained I can hear rustling and muffled voices downstairs. 

“One more, Sir,” I hear one of them call from downstairs. 

“Captain?” I hear Eren’s voice a few moments later after a bit of radio chatter. I don't have the energy to respond or move in any way. I just lie on the floor with my head tilted to the side, staring at the charred back of one of my detectives. 

“Captain, Sir?” 

I groan with frustration. Can't they go any faster? I understand the building isn’t exactly in a safe state right now but I’m getting antsy being stuck here. I’m feeling weak and there are a million places I would rather be right now. 

“Oh, good, you’re still with me. Stay awake, okay?” Eren says. I hear a few floorboards creaking and a bit of shuffling over near the staircase entrance. I tilt my head up to try and get a look at where he is, to see what he's doing but other than a few shouts downstairs, I can’t see. 

“We’re going to see if we can try the floor above,” Eren explains. There’s a few holes in the ceiling and footsteps creaking slowly above me. His voice comes from the side, though, so I’m presuming he’s finding a way over to me. “Stick in there, I’m on my way over.” 

“I’m not exactly going anywhere,” I scoff. 

“Do you remember that calendar your team did a few years back?” Eren asks. Odd question but I guess he’s trying to keep me occupied so I don’t die on him. 

“Ugh, how could I forget?” That photo shoot had been the single biggest bane of my life. My superior at the time, Erwin, had insisted we all take part. As sergeant at the time I was expected to take part, getting a few of our beat cops and detectives in for the 12-picture project for charity. 

“Who’d have thought I’d have the pleasure of rescuing Mister October himself? Did you get to choose which month you wanted?” Eren asks, his voice a little further to my side now. I turn my head to see if I can tell where he is. I can’t tell how wrecked the floor is, or how large the hole is, but it seems he’s going for it anyway. 

“Apparently I’m the scariest, so they stuck me on Halloween.” 

“What would you have preferred if you were given the choice?” 

I ponder on that for a moment, giving it a bit of thought. “December?” 

“Any reason why?” 

“I like the cold, and my birthday is on Christmas.” 

“Oho, a Christmas baby huh?” 

I appreciate his efforts but the real appreciation comes in the form of a desk to my side being slowly shifted out of the way and Eren’s navy blue and yellow striped trousers come into view. He's got his thick overalls on and a dark blue jacket, helmet with a head torch and thick gloves covering his hands. He kneels down and looks me over, radioing to his team to tell them he’s at my side. 

“I think you’d suit December, but I do prefer Mister October.” 

I scoff again. “Why?”

“You’re the best looking out of all of them. That and the bat ears were really cute,” he says with a laugh. I close my eyes and groan. 

“Are you seriously hitting on me? Now of all times?” 

“Well if you die I won’t get a chance. Better make the most of it, eh?” 

“Fair point.” 

“So how’s this, I get you out of here alive and you let me take you out for a drink?” 

“How old are you anyway?” I ask, too tired to really argue. 

“Twenty four, Sir.” 

Could be worse. Only a ten year age difference. It’s probably the blood loss but I decide to humour him. 

“Fine.” 

“Alright then, let’s see what we’ve got here…” Eren leans over and sets a small oxygen tank beside me, offering me the mouthpiece to which I place against my face, relishing in the fresh air. It doesn’t burn like the smoke did, which is pleasant. The lack of oxygen had me feeling a bit light headed and drunk almost. I rest my head against the floor and breathe in slowly. 

“Alright, can you feel this?” Eren asks. Nothing registers. I grunt out a ‘no’. 

“How about this?” I feel Eren’s fingers pressing against my right thigh and I wince, hissing in pain. He takes that as the only answer he needs. 

“Alrighty Captain, we can’t get you out on this floor, but we’re going to cinch you up and get you downstairs from the floor above. That alright with you?” 

“Do what you gotta do,” I tell him. 

“This is going to hurt, by the way.” 

“I hadn’t expected anything less,” I gripe, bracing myself. Eren counts down and shifts the rubble in stages from my left leg. I’m quite glad Eren keeps a straight face throughout the whole thing, I’m not sure I want to see. 

“Eren,” a female voice calls from above, to which I glance up and get a slight view of something being lowered down. Eren takes it and shuffles back to my side. 

“You’re going to feel a bit of pressure. Do you want something to bite down on?” I shake my head, pressing my face against my arm again after moving the oxygen mask up, ready to bite into the sleeve of my tattered jacket. A few minutes later I feel an uncomfortable sensation in my right thigh, as if the metal pole is being moved ever so slightly. After a few slow seconds I yelp in surprise as the bar gives way and gravity slumps my thigh to the floor. I feel Eren’s hands around my waist, propping me up to support the weight before pushing something beneath my thigh to wrap around the bar still impaled there. 

“Ah, not too bad,” he mumbles to himself. “Not good, but not too bad! We’ll have you out of here in no time, Sir.” 

“How are you so cheery?” I mutter through the mask I press back to my face. 

“I’ve seen a lot, I guess.” 

“You and me both.” 

“Anyway, you’re ready to go, we’ve got your luxury car waiting for you outside.” I scoff at that. 

It’s not exactly an easy hoist, but I’m strapped by the chest and waist and slowly hoisted up onto the sixth floor. Every inch is agony. Once I’m there, laying on my back with my little oxygen tank close by, the little team of firefighters get me on a stretcher, strap me in and begin the descent down the staircase. I feel every single step and jostle and Eren is by my side again as soon as we reach the fifth floor staircase. 

“Don’t worry, Sir, we’re on our way out now,” he reassures me, taking my hand in his and holding it tightly. I’m not sure why but the gesture doesn’t embarrass me in the slightest - I need the touch like nothing before, gripping to his hand as tightly as I can. 

As soon as we hit the ground floor, the sunlight burns and we’re out in the open. I squint and wince as I’m jostled as gently as possible onto the awaiting stretcher and wheeled into an ambulance, paramedics all over me faster than flies to shit as I am forced to let go of Eren’s hand. 

Finally feeling safe, I allow my wrecked body to take over and send me to sleep. The last thing I see before the ambulance doors (and my eyes) close is Eren taking his helmet off and wiping his sooty face, being patted on the shoulder by a shorter, black-haired female colleague as he looks my way.

Good job, kid. Good job.


	2. The Paradis Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been getting a better response than I thought it would, so I decided to post a chapter early! Updates will be no later than weekly usually, but knowing me it'll be a lot sooner, depending on how quickly I write the rest of it. I'm about 60% done so far :D
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

4 Years Ago. 

9:00am, Trost precinct. I’m stood in front of a room with our department for the morning meeting. Erwin always wants me to take more meetings and inspire the team, but I find I’m not a big public speaker. That's more Erwin’s job as Captain. 

He's in for a promotion soon to police commander, so I hear the higher ups are looking to find someone to fill in his shoes as Captain of the Trost precinct. I keep telling him to get them to outsource someone else but it seems all eyes are on me regardless of whether I want them there or not. 

I would be able to manage, I know. The fewer people’s lives I’m responsible for the better, I suppose. I’ve had the displeasure of losing cops and detectives at work and it’s not a good feeling. He tells me I’ll need to start preparing to do the briefings myself, but I’m quite satisfied standing aside as their lead detective and working cases I’m given. I am perfectly capable of briefing the team when he’s not in, I just prefer he does it when he can. There’s always another detective I can pawn it off onto either way. 

I’m a damn good cop, apparently Trost’s finest. Possibly the country. The brass clearly have nothing better to do than slap pointless titles on people who look good on paper. 

What the reports don’t tell you is how I’m the most anti-social, unfriendly member of their team. I’ve got a background in identity theft and fraud so I know how to work the system. Fortunately these days I’m applying my skills for the good of society instead of to its detriment. That one was Erwin’s idea. I was offered a fixed term, mandatory job with the police force instead of prison time. I’m good, but Erwin is better. 

In the room you’ve got Mike, my second a lot of the time, he’s the best detective I know beside myself. We work a lot of cases together, we’re close. He's a tall bloke with shaggy blond hair and a bum-fluff mustache. He's good at his job and nothing gets past him. If you’re hiding something, he’ll sniff it out. We call him the precinct’s ‘bloodhound’. The nickname isn’t helped by his fascination with Nanaba who works with us who transferred from the K9 department two years ago. 

They’re both unironically huge dog lovers. 

Next up is Hange. Hange is a fucking nutcase, but an excellent detective. I ended up with an apartment in the same building so we hang out a lot outside of work. Has a thing for fast cars he can’t ever dream of affording. Likes to spend his spare time playing racing games on real tracks. Has buddies in the formula 1 world. Spends his annual leave at racing events. Often has whiplash. No surprises there. 

Despite his tendencies to be a bit of a speed demon behind the wheel, Hange is the only other person I would seriously recommend for Captain. 

Then you’ve got Oluo, Petra, Eld and Gunther. All exceptional detectives. They make up the drug task force I’m currently leading. This morning’s meeting focus is likely to be on the huge bust we did last night. Collared the head honcho of the entire operation, so now we’re going to be playing clean up for the next few weeks of any of their men left in the city and surrounding areas. 

You’ve got the office administration manager, Moblit. He’s technically a cop but spends a lot of time in the office with the civilian admin team. I personally see his skills more suited to field work but each to their own. You do you, Mob, even if it involves taking on most of Hange's paperwork. 

Lingering at the back you’ve got a bunch of other beat cops hanging around for the briefing.

“Good morning, everyone,” Erwin starts. 

“As you all know, Levi’s team successfully brought in ‘The Pastor’ and his men last night.” He pauses as the team all give a short round of applause. “It was a great effort and I want to thank each and every one of you for your hard work over the last three months in bringing this operation to a close.” 

I give him a curt nod when he pats my shoulder, keeping my arms folded. 

“Crime doesn’t stop though, so we’ve got new orders. Nanaba, we’ve got a B&E for you to investigate down on Rose Avenue. Take Petra as your second.” 

“Yes Sir,” Nanaba says. Petra smiles and nods at Nanaba. 

“Eld and Oluo I want you on the Davidson’s case still.” They both nod at that. They’re already working it so Erwin wants them to focus all their attention on it. 

“Other things to remember is not to use the coffee machine since it’s still broken. Other than that, Levi will be running the rest of you through your new assignments. Have a good day,” he says, handing me the lump of files before nodding curtly and leaving. Those already assigned their tasks get up and exit, as do the rest of the beat cops. I’m left with the remaining detectives; Hange, Mike, Gunther and of course, Moblit.

“Right guys,” I say, shuffling to sit at one of the tables at the front. I prefer to be amongst my men, rather than at the front of a pretentious podium at the front of the meeting room. The sixth floor is reserved solely for the morning briefings and other meetings throughout the day, as well as the break room at the end of the hall. 

“We've had a witness come in and give us a lead on the Paradis case. Twenty year old female reportedly escaped a brothel down on South Maria.” 

“Oh, great!” Hange says, leaning in close. The rest of them have all shuffled over closer to get into earshot. 

The Paradis case is currently involving a number of our country’s major crime groups attacking each other. There have been a number of murders in the last few weeks and it's our job to source the perps. Historically there have been nine major gangs in the country of Eldia. Each one has a different code name based on either major figureheads of their organisations or their telltale crime signatures and ‘footprints’. Some are more active than others but they’re all essential targets to the detectives across the country depending on which ones operate in which regions. 

Currently there are four or five major crime networks still operational. That we’re aware of. 

In Trost we’ve got the ‘Ladykillers’, Shiganshina in the south has ‘Braun’ and ‘Bertie’ and I’m pretty sure the capital city Sina over in central has some shady business going on over there too. Those are the main ones closest to my work. I don’t hear much about the others since they’re further out of the area. 

“Yeah, turns out the Ladies have had people going missing and turning back up dead.” 

“Great, where do we start?” Mike asks. 

I flip a folder open. “I’ve put together all of our new leads in separate files. Each one has something to look into. I want each one of you to chase your lead today and we’ll meet back up tomorrow to see where we get.” I hand them each a folder, keeping one for myself to investigate. 

“Mike you’re on this new guy Zeke, Gunther takes the so-called ‘Revolutionists’, Moblit you’re on paperwork and witness phone calls and Hange… stay out of trouble. We’re not gonna need all of us on this until we uncover some more info. Work on your open cases for now. Team up if you need to, let’s get this done.” 

“Sure thing, boss.”

The team all get to work on their individual files and it’s business as usual at the office until Erwin calls me into his office. I enter and he gestures to the door. I close it behind me.

“So January is coming up soon,” he starts and I interrupt him.

“It’s only September, and no. You ask me every year.” 

“And you say no every year.” 

“No.” 

“It would look really good on your appraisal next year…” 

“Fuck that, my record speaks for itself I don’t have to take my clothes off and pose for some shitty calendar for soccer moms to feel validated.” 

“Still, I have things in mind for you next year and this will really help to paint you in the right light.” 

“Such an artist,” I mutter under my breath. “This is about that Captain bullshit again, isn’t it?” 

“Provided your current case goes well. Do you want it?” Erwin asks, expression suddenly serious as he leans forward in his chair a little. I press my lips together into a thin line. 

“I can do the job.” 

“But do you want it?” 

I pull a face. I don’t mind in all honesty. It would be a welcomed pay rise for only a small increase in responsibility. I’m practically Erwin’s right hand man as it is now, I know how the job works so I’d basically be getting paid for all the extra work I do around here anyway. 

“I can do it.” 

That’s as close as he’s getting to me saying I want it. I don’t want it but at the same time I don’t not want it. I’m feeling painfully indifferent at the moment. 

“Well in that case I’m ordering you to take part in this year’s charity calendar.” 

“Can’t I just take the pictures?” 

Erwin raises his eyebrows at me ever so slightly. “You know how this works. Perhaps you would be more motivated if we got more involved with the charity itself? I understand it is one quite close to home for you?” 

He’s not wrong. Each year we put together a stupid fucking ‘nude’ calendar for a LGBT teen support charity, the Scouts. It’s the very charity that got me out of my shitty uncle’s apartment and off the streets when I was fourteen. Mind, it didn’t do much to keep me out of trouble but it made a shitty situation bearable back at the time. 

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” I mumble, groaning internally at the thought of taking my kit off in front of a camera. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. It’s an order. The shoot is next week Thursday.” 

I fold my arms and huff. 

The team who do it each year have already got their favourite months chosen, based off birthdays or anniversaries or special moments in their lives that happened in said months. Some sappy shit to stick on the calendar. Not all of them are gay, but a few are. All of them seem more than happy to contribute, Mike especially. I’ll admit he’s quite easy on the eyes without a shirt on. I can’t see the appeal in myself if I’m honest. I’m shorter than most teenage girls and my face is permanently fixed with a scowl. I rarely smile, let alone try and look sexy. I’m deeply insecure about myself and I haven’t ever been on a proper date. I’m thirty. Pathetic, right?

I’m good at my job so I don’t bother trying to be good in a relationship. Any I try and have just fall apart. I’m not sure how to hold them together. I’ve honestly stopped trying to figure it out. 

Anyway, I get back to working on my leads and I keep coming across the same name: Reiss. I’m holed up at my desk for long hours each day, dissecting photographs, statements and reports. I end up relocating to the briefing room where it’s quieter, piecing everything together on a huge magnetic whiteboard. 

I draw all my lines, add all my status updates for all the people involved and each line leads both to a question: how is Reiss involved? Isn’t that the country’s Royal family? It's not exactly easy to request an interview with the King or the Queen. 

I’m hunched over the table covered with sheets of paper when Hange comes up with a couple of folders under his arm. I look up, praying that he’s come up with something to help me out here. I’m running in circles. 

“How’s it going?” He asks. 

“Nowhere, fast.” 

“Thank God I’m here, ey?” He chirps, way too cheerily for this time of the day. 

“Tell me.” 

He sets his files down and flicks the top one open, pulling out a photograph. It’s a blonde woman in a white dress, tiara atop her head. It’s Historia Reiss. She went missing a few weeks back and no one’s been able to come up with anything. Not even the secret service or the national guards, armies, nothing. She vanished off the face of the planet or so it seems. It’s currently taking up all of our time at the precinct here, especially since she allegedly went missing in our city. She’s either missing and alive or missing and dissolving in a bathtub of acid in someone’s hidden basement somewhere. 

“Princess Reiss, right?” Hange says. 

“Right.” 

“Your witness says she met other girls there. Did she describe what they looked like?”

I shuffle through my paperwork to pull out the witness report, scanning through to get to the part where she mentioned the other captive women. 

“Any matches?” 

“I would love to say you’re a genius but I checked, no matches. I am getting a lot of witnesses and victims saying they overheard the guys talking about Reiss though. I don't know why." 

"I take it you’re pulling another all-nighter to try and crack this out?” 

I grunt a response. Hange understands it’s my way of saying yes. The insomnia makes it hard to sleep so I work instead. 

“I’ll grab us some caffeine and lets find us a princess!”


	3. Visiting Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi is carted off to the hospital and he gets to see who else made it out of the precinct bombing alive.

I'm hauled into an ambulance and glance down at my legs. I don't get a very good look at the left since it's lying flat and the right is propped up since it's still got a metal bar pierced all the way through it. Both legs have the same thing in common: they’re drenched in blood. No wonder I’d started to feel light headed. Perhaps it wasn’t just the smoke but my inability to feel myself slowly bleeding out. 

Damn though, those were my good trousers. 

I’m hauled off to hospital and I'm pretty sure I'm unconscious by the time I get there. It's a blur of lights and scrubs and hurried medical staff. I remember fragments like being rolled down a hall to the operating theatre and someone fixing my arm with fluids. 

I get a mask gently wedged against my mouth and nose and it doesn't take long for me to forget about the needles they’re poking me with. I wake again and I vaguely register that I’m on the move again. I feel really groggy and presume they’ve just operated on whatever was broken. I spend the rest of the day sleeping, not entirely sure of the time until the next morning when I notice the nurse greet me with a warm ‘good morning’ as she tends to my IV. 

I'm still tired but that's probably from the stress of the whole ordeal and all the drugs forcing me to sleep. They still haven't quite worn off yet which is nice. My legs are going to hurt like a bitch when the painkillers wear off. 

A doctor joins the nurse holding a clipboard. 

“Ah, Captain, you’re awake. Good morning.” 

I make an attempt to grumble a response but my throat feels too tender. It's hard to swallow any saliva or get my tongue to cooperate in forming words. 

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” 

Doctors should be forbidden to say that. I narrow my eyes at him. 

“Well, the good news is you’re going to live. You’ll even be able to return to work after a while depending on how your recovery goes.” Alright, makes sense. “The bad news is that your left foot and ankle had been so badly damaged there wasn't any way we could save it. We’ve had to amputate from the knee down. Don't worry though,” he's quick to add, “with a prosthetic you’ll eventually be able to return to almost perfect mobility. We’ll have the city's best at your disposal to make sure you make a speedy recovery.” 

He goes on a little longer about all sorts of support that is available and I spend a few minutes zoning out just to take it all in. I had half expected there to be some substantial damage when I stopped feeling it trapped under all that shit. I feel somewhat reassured knowing I’ll probably be able to go back to work. I sincerely hope that’s the case. 

I’ll just have to make it work, whatever happens. 

I'm asleep by the time he finishes talking and it's probably more out of me switching off and not wanting to deal with the fact I've just had my foot amputated. 

I'm in and out of comfort and sleep throughout the next couple of weeks in intensive care. I have another two operations to rectify certain parts of both legs and a following week after the final one, as soon as I'm allowed visitors, Erwin is the first by my side. He comes in by himself and refuses to talk about the case with me until I've healed. 

“Everyone is eager to see you,” he tells me with a small yet fond smile. “We’re all glad you’re alive.” 

“Bring ‘em in then,” I tell him. What the team are met with is a still slightly burnt in places Levi with a thick bandage coating my entire right leg and the rest of me beneath a thin sheet and a scratchy bile-yellow blanket. I've got a thin hospital gown on covering the top half of me, but my forearms are healing nicely and my hands no longer need their bandages, having mostly healed of their superficial cuts. They’re still a bit sore whenever I try to flex my fingers though. 

“Levi!” Hange practically wails. I wince for effect and smirk as he comes over to the side of the bed, letting the others filter in. Mike comes in with an arm cast on and Petra is rolled in in a wheelchair, both legs broken. I can't help but scoff at the state they’re all in. They’re all alive, though. 

They all huddle around and chat for what feels like hours. It's infuriating and sad at the same time knowing that some of my colleagues died. It just fuels me further to recover and get back to the action. I’ll do what I must to catch whoever did this. 

I get a few visitors each day until it dwindles down after a week. After two weeks I'm mostly healed except for my right leg and I'm able to sit up and even move around with the help from my physio and nurses. They’ve got specialised wheelchairs for amputees and it allows me to move around as much as I can and like. They would have had me up and about sooner if it weren't for the damage to my right leg and the additional surgeries. The doctor estimates anywhere from five to seven months to completely heal, which is devastating. It’s tough but I am forced to surrender my work to Erwin to finish on my behalf. 

The nurse pops her head into the room and announces a few visitors. What I'm not expecting is a few members of the fire department to enter. There's Keith Shadis, head of the fire house on the same street as our precinct. They were the first responders. 

Eren is also here, albeit a lot cleaner than the last time I saw him, and there's a tall young man and woman with them. The woman looks Asian with long black hair tied into a ponytail and the other guy’s got the top half of his hair dyed blond. 

“Captain Levi, how are they treating you in here?” Keith asks, coming over to my bed. The other three stand at the foot of the bed. They’re all wearing cargo pants, boots and Trost fire department tee shirts and jackets. 

“Is there nothing burning in all of Trost?” I gripe playfully in my own way. Keith just smirks. 

“I see you’re still a salty son of a bitch.” I scoff. “Anyway these are the three who got you out, I wanted to come by and introduce them. This is Jean, Mikasa and Eren.” I look at them all in turn and they nod curtly in front of their boss. 

“Thanks,” I tell them. 

“Just doing our job, Sir,” Mikasa tells me. I’ll have to send them a gift of some sort when I'm out of here. That or ask Erwin to get Moblit to arrange something if he hasn't already. 

“Really, thanks.” 

They all nod. 

“Well, it's good to see you’re doing alright, we’ll let you get on,” Keith says and we wish each other a good day as they leave. A few hours later, presumably at the end of his shift, Eren is back. 

“Sir?” He pokes his head through the door after knocking far louder than probably necessary for a hospital room. 

“Ever heard of a thing called sleep?” I tell him, less pissed off than I must sound. He looks a bit sheepish so I correct myself. “It's fine, come in.” He does, moving over to the end of the bed and pulling up a chair after standing there a little awkwardly. 

“How are you doing?” 

“I’ve been better. My neighbors have been bringing me food which is good.” 

“Is the hospital food that bad?” 

“Awful.” Eren winces before cracking a smile. It's a bit crooked but none less charming than I expected from him. 

“Are you sure you don't want to sleep?” He asks. “I can come back.” 

“Stay,” I tell him. “It's so boring all I do in here is sleep or watch trashy daytime TV.” I enjoy what company I do get and I'm sort of glad Eren is here by himself. “I haven't forgotten about our deal.” 

He seems to sag with relief and his face brightens up instantly. This kid is so easy to read. 

“Oh, of course, sorry about that by the way,” he says, rubbing his neck. “It's not everyday you get to meet your hero.” I pull a face at that. There are way better options for heros this kid could have chosen. He seems to notice my expression and swallows down whatever it was he was about to say. 

“I owe you at least a drink,” I tell him. “Maybe not yet, but hold me to it. I’ll go.” He brightens back up and I can feel the tug of amusement at my lips. 

“Sounds like a plan, Captain. How long until they discharge you?” 

“Uh, at least another two weeks. I live alone though and my apartment isn't exactly wheelchair friendly. I’m not looking forward to it.” Eren frowns. 

“Can't you get a carer?” 

I scrunch my face up a little, not too keen on the idea of letting someone into my flat to metaphorically wipe my arse. I’d rather maintain my dignity at home, leaving the embarrassment at the hospital. 

“Take that as a no?” Eren chuckles and I shrug. I don’t exactly have a choice but to get help. 

“I’m going to have to.” 

“You’ll need it though, it’s not a bad thing considering what you went through…” 

He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t mean I like what I’m hearing. I am enjoying his company though, not that I would admit it aloud just yet. I have a shitty track record with dating and if he thinks I'm going to be some perfect role model of a man, he's in for some big disappointments. I’ll have to let him know early on so he doesn't get any ideas. I don't want to lead him on. 

“So why me, eh? Can't you just have a normal hero like every other sane human being?” 

“Well,” Eren begins, “I was helped out a lot by the Scouts trust a few years back. They helped me get a job and I’ve always had a thing for guys in uniform…” he mumbles the last half, rubbing his neck with a small smile. 

“That damned calendar.” Eren laughs at that. “I guess that makes sense. I'm sort of their poster boy these days.” The Scouts see me as a big success story, from street brat to police captain. 

_To bedridden._

Eren nods and sits back in his chair after scooting a little bit closer. I don't object. At least with him a little closer I can appreciate the colour of his eyes. They're chuck hazel. Green on the outside with a smattering of ambery brown in the middles around the irises. They’re lovely. 

“And hoo, what a poster boy you make. My mom buys it every year and gets me a copy.” 

“Who's your second favourite then?” I tease. 

“Hmm, probably…Detective Zacharius?” 

I snort. “Damn dog.” Eren laughs.

“It's the uniform I swear!” 

“Yeah yeah,” I mutter, rolling my eyes, dangerously close to smiling. We fall quiet for a moment. 

“Got anything you want to talk about?” Eren pitches by means of distracting me from staring at my leg. 

“Uh, what made you become a fireman?” I ask. 

“Call it a childhood dream come true?” 

“Oh god you’re one of those that stopped maturing at four years old, right?” Eren laughs loudly and almost doubles over. He's amusing.

“Well alright then, _Mister October_ , why’d you become a cop?” He counters. 

“I joined the force instead of jail time for fraud.” 

“Oh! What, like Leo DiCaprio?” 

I roll my eyes, still amused. “Sort of. Minus the part about pretending to be a pilot. That and Erwin’s got nothing on Tom Hanks.” Eren chuckles again. 

“You think?” 

“Eh, Erwin’s not my type.” 

“So, what _is?_ your type?” 

Nosey little fucker. I can't say he's not persistent. I'm finding myself enjoying his efforts regardless of my shitty situation. 

“I dunno, anyone into short, grumpy, one legged cops?” 

“I’m sure I can hook you up with someone who meets that description.” 

“Oh really? What happened to taking me out for that drink?” 

“It's still on, as long as you are.” 

“Yeah, it's still on.” 

“Great. So, tell me something else about yourself?” 

“Uh, what do you want to know?” 

“Well, what sort of food do you like?” Eren asks.

“Um, Eastern food mainly I guess, you?” 

“I’ve not really tried much, I hear it’s good though. I’m a national, I love my meat stews and fancy sandwiches.” 

“And what’s your poison?” 

“Don’t you mean ‘where is this annoying kid planning on taking me out for a drink’?” 

I snort and nod. May as well be honest, gotta see if he’s got taste. 

“Don’t worry about that, I know a nice place that serves anything you want. My dad owns the building and my mum runs the bar and restaurant.” 

“It’s not ‘Yeager’s’, by any chance, is it?” I ask, putting two and two together. His jaw drops and he grins at me. 

“How’d you guess so quickly?” He seems genuinely surprised. 

“Forget I’m a detective?” 

“Oh crap, yeah, forgot about that. Damn, you’re as good at they say you are!” There it is again, the unnecessary praise. My lip curls at the idea of Eren turning out to be just another fangirl. They irritate me. Eren is strangely endearing, though. 

“So, you don’t mind me coming to keep you company here?” Eren asks. 

“No. Just lay off on the fangirling.” 

“Any other requests, Sir?” he asks with a sly little smirk. 

“Yeah, I’m a shitty date, by the way.” 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” 

“Just in case you’re thinking of liking me. I’ll probably fuck it up and hurt you.” Eren waves a dismissive hand but my track record speaks for itself when relating to my view on dating. “Seriously don’t get your hopes up. I’m so bad at it you’ll regret it.” 

“We’ll see about that,” he says confidently. I guess he’s right. He’s free to choose his own path, whether he regrets his choices or not. 

Who am I to interfere?


	4. The Basement and The Owl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone so far for your awesome support! Here's another update I couldn't wait a whole week!

“Hange you genius!” Hange himself announces, way too loudly for 4am. 

We pulled an all nighter and turns out his help was exactly what I needed to crack on with my own leads. 

“Right, get home and get to sleep. We’ve got briefing at 9:00am sharp.” 

“Make it ten?” Hange whines. 

“No.” 

“Pfft, killjoy.” 

“See you at nine, Hange.” 

“Don't stay up too late.” 

I make it home in time for only two hours of sleep. I wake up exhausted but it's nothing I'm not used to. Nothing a bit of caffeine can’t help with. 

Morning briefing arrives and my team group up afterwards to debrief from yesterday. 

There isn't much to report aside from our missing princess last being seen fairly close to one of the last reported illegal brothels. We’re all thinking the same thing - she's been kidnapped. 

Now to just find the fuckers. 

“So we’ve got five missing persons and eighteen across the neighboring counties starting in a pattern from Shiganshina, through Rose county and up into Trost. No reports from the west or north, and there’s no reports coming in from Sina so we think they’re still in the area,” Gunther shares. “They’re all young females, ranging from fifteen to twenty-four. They’re all Eldian nationals. We think Bertie and Braun might have people in the know, so we’re gonna start contacting everyone we know today to find more leads.” 

“Princess Reiss was last seen at _this_ museum for an exhibition opening three weeks ago,” Hange points it out on a map. He looks just as tired as I do, ponytail a mess and his glasses on a little bit crooked. “The last known brothel was three streets down on South Maria. A week ago we were given a tip off by neighbors noticing strange visitor patterns at a residential house which is now vacant. It was empty when we arrived but we found evidence of all sorts of bodily fluids from all sorts of people. None of the samples came up on the system.” 

“I can run them against any new files in the last week and see if anything comes up,” Moblit offers. 

“Good thinking Batman,” Hange shoots a finger gun at Moblit and winks. “Levi and Gunther are on stakeout duty for the rest of today. We’ll send you a relief team at six and we’ll keep a car in the neighborhood for the rest of the week unless we spot something. Re-familiarize yourself with all of our beautiful mugs in your files before you go. I’ll stay here and make a few phone calls and see if I can get a meeting with a few people from the museum.” 

Great, all angles are covered. We get to work.

Stakeouts do indeed continue for the rest of the week and we all take turns until a few days later Hange snaps a few shots of a known associate of the museum, Reeves, is seen walking through the street, two streets down to a plain residential building. The way I figure is they must have moved close by if they got out so quickly. We searched the entire house when we arrived and didn't find a soul. It was all left too freshly deserted to have been nothing other than a quick, close relocation. 

My problem though is that no one saw anything. No one was spotted leaving the house, no cameras picked up any suspicious vehicles in the nearby areas and none of the neighbors saw anyone leaving the building at any time. It's like they never left through the front door. 

“The front door…” I mutter to myself with Hange beside me in the car as we’re watching the house a couple streets down. 

“Eh?”

“No one saw anything ‘cause they didn't leave through the shitting front door…”

Hange puts it together. “Shit, son!”

“Don't say that.” 

“Shit or son?” 

“Either.” Hange snorts a laugh and sips at his coffee. 

“So you’re telling me there might be something worth double checking back at the house?” 

“Do I have to answer that?” 

“Roger that, son!” Hange says as he fires up the engine, calling in to the station to send a relief team. They arrive within ten minutes and Hange takes us back around to the main street with the house we raided last week. We pull our vests from the back seat and strap them on. 

A knock on the door and a quick announcement of who we are and as expected there is no response. I try the handle and it clicks but doesn't open. By the time I've turned around Hange is crouched to my side with a key in his hand. 

“Thanks,” I tell him as he hands it over and rights the doormat. Silly place to hide keys really. I open the door and we get our guns and flashlights out, pointing them into each room to check the coast is clear. Less than a minute later when every room has been checked, we meet back up in the front hallway and head to the basement. 

It's just as we left it last week, the air stale with piss and blood. There are a few old mattresses lying around on the floor with a bunch of needles and scattered tools indicating heroin use. This wasn't the classiest brothel we’d ever seen but at least when we found it the mattresses were at least made up to look like beds. This was only where they kept their girls, not where clients would come. There was enough evidence upstairs in the bedrooms to answer that mystery. 

The walls are what I’m focusing on. I want to know how they got these women out without ever having set foot outside the front door. Hange kicks at a grate on the ground but shakes his head, it’s too narrow, seemingly an old ventilation shaft. I go around the edges tapping the bricks and I don’t find anything. 

There is one thing along the walls that draws my attention however. There are a pair of old wooden cabinets against the back wall. 

“This must be it,” I say. Hange nods, pulling open one of the wardrobe doors and shining his torch in. There’s a few changes of clothes, mainly lingerie, but I dip my head around the back to see if I can spot anything. They’re too flush against the wall but I can feel a cool breeze against my face and there aren’t any windows in sight. 

“There’s something behind here,” I tell him. He nods at me and we try moving the wardrobes. They don't come away from the wall. 

“Probably bolted from the back,” Hange observes, opening one of them up again and pressing at the back panel. Eventually we find that the second wardrobe’s back panel slides to the side, leading into what looks like a crudely dug tunnel. 

“Jackpot!” Hange says quietly. 

Hange radios in to the station to report our find and to provide a car outside just in case things get a bit dodgy. I pull my torch and gun up and lead the way, stepping carefully through the wardrobe. The tunnel isn’t that tall and Hange has to hunch over. I’m fine for most of it, except the last part where we end up crawling as we draw closer to an end with a small wooden panel. I press my ear up against the panel to check for movement and I can hear muffled voices. 

“This is the place, isn’t it?” Hange whispers. I shrug and we switch our lights off as I very slowly slide the wooden board to the side, just a crack. Enough to get a view of the inside of another closet. 

“It’s the same on this side. We’ve got to be at least three streets down,” I whisper. 

“There’s no way of telling what house that is though,” Hange mutters, frustrated. 

“We can probably get a warrant on this alone. Come on, let’s report back.” 

“Aight.” 

Erwin arranges our warrant within the hour and that evening we’re rocking up to the house a few streets down that we’d been watching and knocking on the door. An old woman answers our call and looks a bit like we’d just interrupted her evening game shows. 

“Ma'am we’ve got a warrant to search the property,” Hange announces, showing her the paperwork and the little old lady steps aside and lets us in. 

The house is your standard little old lady’s house. Family pictures everywhere - no one I recognise. 

A team head upstairs and back toward the garden. Hange and I head straight for the basement. The door is locked, so Hange asks her for the key. She says she's not opened it since her husband died eight years ago, and has lost the key, so I decide on picking it open instead. 

Once it's open we carefully descend and hit the lights, finding your standard, dusty basement full of boxes and sheeted furniture. 

Hange is quick to search it more thoroughly, pulling sheets off wardrobes and opening them up, checking for secret back panels. I check the walls and floorboards. 

“Fuck, I think it's clear.” 

I groan. 

“Neighbor’s house maybe?” 

We call it in and Erwin directs officers to ask the neighbors. Nothing comes up fishy. 

Once we’re done and sat in Hange’s car, we’re both stumped. 

“Back to the hole?” 

“Yeah, let's go.” 

We head back to the vacant house, getting Erwin’s men to stick around. It’s straight back into the basement, through the narrow little tunnel and sliding the fake door carefully. Hange is in front of me and carefully pushes the closet door open, peeking through. I can tell he’s scowling even in the dark because he tuts and pushes the door open moments later and stomps into the empty room. 

Once our flashlights are back on we inspect the room only to find a speaker set up in the corner with an iPod playing on repeat with a muffled recording of women’s voices. 

“They’re taking the piss now,” Hange says. “Smith it’s a dead end. They know we’re onto them. They’re not here,” he radios over. Erwin’s voice crackles back over our earpieces. 

“Where are you?” 

“Good question, stand by,” Hange says, looking around. There’s a ladder on the wall to the side leading up to a hatch. The room itself looks like some sort of strange bunker. Possibly purpose built for this reason. 

I make my way up the ladder and as soon as I try the latch, we both hear a loud clank and a hissing noise. I point my torch over to the ground where Hange is stood staring at a smoke grenade. 

“Fuck!” He shouts, heading toward the hole in which we came from through the single cupboard in the room. “What the fuck is that?” He says, clearly unable to get out, coughing as he’s crouched in the closet. I turn my focus back to the hatch door above me, giving it a good shove. It doesn’t move. I unholster my gun and point it at the sides, looking away once the barrel is in position with the hinges, firing at each of them. 

That proves enough to be able to push the thin metal hatch open and crawl out into the open. Hange isn’t far behind me. 

“The hell was that?” Hange spits, still coughing from the gas. “Where are we?” We both look around and it looks like we’re in a driveway behind the houses back yard fences, a dirt access road to the residential garages. Hange radios to Erwin and he gets his men to come around. 

“Are you alright?” He asks the both of us when he arrives a few minutes later. We both nod. 

“Seems they got away after all. Probably didn't see anyone leaving here since it’s pretty well hidden with the trees and fences.” 

I groan out loud. This is the last thing we need. “Eld’s saying the house you went through is clear.” 

“Bullshit, someone tried to fucking gas us.” 

“We’re looking into it now,” Erwin assures me. 

Turns out, after we let the hatch air out, that the door had been rigged with a trap to release upon tampering. No one had been in the building, or the tunnel, and it had all been an elaborate trap to try to slow us down or send us off the trail. 

Good luck, ‘cause that’s not how the Trost precinct rolls. 

We get back to the office the next day and get back to work on investigating the missing women. That is until Petra comes in with three women following her. 

“Wait here please, I’ll be with you in a moment. Would you like a drink?” She asks the three, who shake their heads. They look a little distressed and tired. 

Petra goes straight to Erwin’s office and waves for all available detectives to join her. We all filter in quickly to hear what she’s got to say. Erwin’s on the phone but he’s quick to ask the person on the other line to call back later. 

“So these three say they were part of the ring we were looking for. They say the guys who were holding them were killed and they want to give us statements.” 

“Where did you pick them up?” 

“Literally downstairs at the front desk. They were asking to see someone.” 

“Great, Petra take their statements and we’ll see if we can get the location to see about these bodies.” 

“Roger that,” she says, leaving us all with the update. 

Following their statements we learn that it was actually the Trost local Ladykillers in charge of the trafficking ring. There was no mentions of any missing princesses. We don’t know who, but we think another gang rose up and took them out. What doesn’t make sense however is how the killers let the women go. It seems they were only after the gang members, not the victims. No money or drugs were stolen either. 

None of them saw any faces or were able to provide any detailed information except for the men who had held them captive (and who were also now lying in the morgue) and a few clients they had been forced to service. We spend the rest of the week on cleanup duty and thankfully all of the mess going on means the stupid ass calendar shoot is postponed. 

“Hey Levi, you’re gonna wanna read this,” Hange says, sauntering over to my desk with a couple of teas in takeout cups. He hands me the ME’s report from our perps involved with the trafficking. 

“Eh?” I look it over and can’t make sense of it. 

“I know, right?” Hange says, “No cause of death. It’s like they just stopped breathing on the spot.” 

“Well that ain’t possible,” I scoff. 

“They think it’s some sort of undetectable drug that done it.” 

“What, something that doesn’t leave any traces? Fuck, why do criminals have to be so damn slippery?” Hange gives me a pointed look and I smirk at him. The team don’t give me any slack in taking the piss out of my past. I’ve worked with them long enough to let them get away with it. Seems I’ve softened around the edges over the years. 

“Alright, so we’re looking for a silent killer. Wanna come up with the code name or are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask with a smirk. 

“Let’s call him the Owl.” 

“Not what I was thinking, but alright,” I snort. 

“What were you thinking of then? Something shit related?” Hange laughs and he knows damn well he’s not wrong. Given the chance I’d nickname all my killers after different shapes of turd and he knows it. 

“No, no. The Owl is fine.”


	5. Good Telephone Manners

Eren visits me at the hospital every other day when his work allows. I’m quite glad he's not here every single day. There’s only so much socialising I can bear. My legs are healing nicely as the hours turn into days and thankfully I don’t get any infections or contract any awful hospital-food related illnesses. 

The burns are really fucking unpleasant when the nurses tend to those, but thankfully there aren’t any too extensive. 

The guys from the precinct come by and visit me too from time to time. They know I’m not big on people doting on me. I get little snippets of cases but nothing in too much detail. Erwin must have them all by the nuts to stop them talking to me about it under the stupid guise of ‘getting some rest’. It’s pretty damn obvious to me that a package on my desk is a clear message for me to stop interfering with the case I’m pursuing. Or _was_ pursuing. 

The recovery process has been pretty good though, I’ll hand it to the medical staff, they know what they’re doing. They removed the stitches the other day and taught me how to get a compression sock on over my stump. It was damn tough the first time I tried since it’s so tight. Not used to accepting help from people in such a personal way, the first couple of weeks here has been a blow to my pride that I didn’t even know I had. 

The Occupational Therapists have been diamonds. They’re the ones teaching me how to return to relative normality given the missing limb. They’re very understanding and knowledgeable on the subject so I manage to ask as many questions as I can while I’m still under their care. I guess that’s another gift basket I’ll be sending out. 

The therapists have booked me in for a few counseling sessions too, but I find I can’t go into as much detail as I would like since a lot of the information is sensitive to the case. I do manage to get a little bit of frustration off my chest though with the difficulty I’ve had getting used to the new situation. Thankfully they’ve seen a lot of patients like me so I’ve been reassured that things do get easier, which makes it better to handle. 

At the end of the day I know I can open up to Erwin about anything I can’t with the hospital staff. And boy do I have a lot of things to discuss. But first, I need to get back onto my feet and prove I can walk to the bathroom by myself. It will be a while before they let me near a gun again. If at all. 

That’s the main thing bothering me. I’m often riddled with ugly thoughts mainly relating to what will happen if I’m not allowed back to work in the long run. I’m sure I’d be okay just working paperwork, but at the same time this is the only thing I’ve ever been passionate about. That and at such a critical state of the case, I want nothing more than to catch those responsible for everything I’ve been working toward for years. That's my main frustration. 

Before I have too much time to dwell on those thoughts any longer, Eren comes in once more, this time wearing his full gear, covered in dust and soot. My brows furrow as I stare at him, curious as to why I’m suddenly starting to feel concerned for his safety. I’m sat up in the hospital bed and I beckon him over to give me a hand with getting off and into the chair beside my pillow. The nurses have been getting a bit pissed off with how many chairs my visitors have been stealing. There’s about four of them in the room currently. 

It’s a strange sensation missing a foot. I feel off-balance and I keep going to put my foot out to balance myself, only to dip my leg down, searching for something to set down that isn’t there. I’ve fallen over twice so far. Thankfully I didn’t fuck myself up any further. I guess the memory of it will be tough to impossible to get over. I’ve got no idea how this works in the long run, whether I’ll ever return to what I once considered a normal life. 

“How are you?” Eren asks, looking at all the seats and grinning. “Did I miss a visitor’s party or something?” He chuckles as he points all the chairs out and picks one to sit in. I shrug at him and stretch my legs out slowly. 

“Yeah, they took measurements yesterday for a prosthetic. It should be ready next week for a first fitting.” 

“Oh, that’s cool. Are you going for one of those super cool ones with the carbon fiber that comes in all sorts of colors?” I stare at him. “No?” 

“Just a normal one for now. I want one for running too. It’s like a bit of curved metal, but I don’t think I’ll be able to use one for a few months yet.” It’s a lot of information to take in relating to my new state of mobility and so much is still unsure as to how the recovery will go. I’m trying my best to keep a strong face on. 

“Oh I know the ones you mean, like the ones they use in the special olympics?” 

I stare at him again. “You do realise they call it the paralympics?” Eren covers his mouth and fucking _giggles_. “How are you a firefighter?” 

“I have a good telephone manner?” 

“That doesn’t even make sense. Anyway, what's with the getup? You been practicing your ‘telephone manners’ on the burns ward or something?” 

“As a matter of fact I’m here after a house fire, making sure everyone got here okay, then I’m going over to the children’s ward to see the kids.” 

“Looking like that?” Eren pulls a face and I smirk at him. “What do you do over there?” 

“Oh, you know, just practice my telephone manners over in the burns ward.” 

“You’re shitting me.” 

“No, actually, I read the kids stories. They love it when I have the uniform on.” I eye him up and down at that and hum. Needless to say the uniform does do wonderful things to him. Wonderful things to him and awful things to my mind. I’ve been stuck in this hospital for I don’t even know how many weeks now. I’m getting bored and it leaves very little to my imagination when Eren comes in here all tight pants and tight shirts and tight ass… 

“Levi?” 

“Sorry, what?” 

“I said did you want to join me?” 

“Where?” 

“The burn ward, I’m sure the nurses will let me wheel you over there if you’re feeling up to it?” Eren asks with a glint of amusement in those greeny-amber eyes. I press my lips together and shrug, my left leg hanging loose off the edge of the chair as I slowly stretch the right. I’ve been stretching them both out and practicing getting used to the left being missing. There’s about five inches left below my knee. The doctor did a good job at closing over the wound, too, so the scars aren’t too obvious or messy. It’s a pretty clean job considering the mess they probably had to deal with. 

“Uh, okay, my chair’s over there.” 

He gets up and pushes my wheelchair over with a stupid grin on his face. I pull my housecoat on as I wait for him. 

“I’ll get a nurse in to help,” I tell him, hitting the button on my bed. A moment later a nurse pops by and I gesture to the wheelchair. She’s as polite as always and Eren helps her to get me into the chair. He’s remarkably gentle but he's clearly got the strength to do it. Once the nurse is happy that my still bandaged right leg is propped up properly, she gives us the go ahead to leave. Not before I force Eren to wipe the bits of soot from his face with a wet wipe. 

“So Eren, you got any kids?” I know he's young but you never know these days. The sign leading us into pediatrics prompts the question. Eren says he doesn't, but that his older sister has a son. His older sister is also Mikasa, who is also a firefighter, married to Jean, who again, is also a firefighter. That's a lot of risky jobs in one family. Eren says they look out for each other to keep each other motivated and safe in moments of emergency. 

You can be prepared to the nines for the worst, but it still feels like shit when it hits the fan, changing your life forever. Each glance at the dip in the blankets below my knee reminds me sadly of that fact.

“We’re here!” Eren announces, greeting the nurses at the station at the end of the room. He leaves me by the ward door as he walks over to the center of the room. There are only a few occupied beds, about four children in total varying in ages from about seven to thirteen by the looks. 

“Eren!” One of the younger boys has just noticed he’s here and it's sad to see how badly burnt some of them are. Not all of these are fire burns either. There's a little girl healing with what look like chemical or possibly acid burns. It makes my skin itch, makes me angry in wanting to know who or what caused this. Over the years on the force it's sort of become the main way I think. 

“I hope you don't mind, but I brought you a guest today. This is Levi. Levi this is Mina, Mylius, Nac and Thomas. Levi is in charge of the police department next to my fire house.” 

“Hello,” I say, to which they seem a bit shy at first. I wheel myself over, although not too closely, watching as Mina is quick to hurry over to the books and pick one out. It makes a nice change from my usual hospital schedule. Which I manage to completely forget about as I listen to Eren's animated reading voice for the next hour or so. 

“Sir?” I hear a voice behind me, so I turn my neck. It’s one of my nurses looking a little bit frazzled, folding her arms and staring Eren down disapprovingly. Eren looks up and flashes her a smile, although it does nothing to soften her glare. 

“You were due for physio twenty minutes ago and no one could find you,” the nurse tells me. Eren is quick to apologise but I tell him to stay with the kids and let the nurse roll me off. 

“See you again soon, Levi?” 

“I don’t exactly have a choice, but sure,” I tell him. The kids all wave to me and I wave back before the nurse moves me across the hospital for my appointment. 

I’ve been attending sessions at the hospital gym at least twice a day now, which is helping me to get used to the sensation. It’s amazing the technology they have these days which supports in not only a full rehabilitation but quickly, too. The therapist helps me up and I grip onto the parallel bars as they fit my leg with a huge ugly brace that acts like a big lumpy sort of prosthetic. It’s cumbersome but it gets the job done with me getting one leg in front of the other. 

Thankfully my training to keep fit for the police has done me wonders for rehabilitation, able mostly to keep myself supported on upper body strength alone as I slowly make my way through the parallel bars. The therapist keeps telling me to use my leg weight more but I’m still cautious. It’s been quite a painful process to date and I still don’t quite trust my weight to hold.

“You’re doing well, Levi,” he tells me. I just grunt. It doesn’t feel at all like I’m making progress at times but they’re all telling me how well I’ve been doing lately. “At this rate we’ll have you up and going in no time.” 

“Does it usually take this long?” I ask as he helps me to turn around, making another pass of the bars very slowly. 

“Given your injuries you’re recovering very quickly. Usually patients who come in for an amputation are up and about quicker since they have use of their other leg. I think once your right leg is all healed you’ll find this a breeze. Is there any pain today?” 

“It feels alright today. A bit sore but I can handle it.” 

“That’s good.” 

We finish my rounds of exercise and he tells me he’ll see me again in the morning and to keep up with my exercises, especially on my upper body to keep me active from all the bedrest. 

As soon as I’m as healed and healthy as I’m going to get, the hospital transfers me to another unit across town which is sort of like an old folk’s home for amputees. The Trost Amputee Rehabilitation centre does exactly what it says on the label. It’s like the next step in making sure I’m able to function by myself, get used to using a prosthetic and a lot more occupational therapy. 

And of course, Eren makes sure he's the first to visit me there.


	6. Homicide Noodles

I sigh loudly, sat on Erwin’s office sofa as I search every inch of my mind for a clue or an idea. Erwin rubs his face and takes another sip of his coffee. It’s late. 

“We’ve been chasing bodies for two years and we’re still no closer to finding out who’s responsible.” 

“I swear if we get another one-eighty-seven today I’m gonna hit someone,” I gripe as my radio chatters for my response. “Yeah it’s me, what do you want?” 

“We’ve got a one-eight-seven off the East Garrison bridge on 4th.” 

“For the love of!”

Erwin gets up and slips his jacket on and we surrender the paperwork for another time as we head out to gather even more. Being a detective is as frustrating as it is rewarding most of the time. 

The princess never surfaced in those two years and a lot of our leads dwindled down and died, clogging up space in our archive room and just sitting there frustrating the hell out of me. The Owl, whether it’s one person or an organisation, very clearly knows what they are doing. They've been targeting figureheads in Eldia. Everything from mob bosses to politicians, doctors and lawyers. The media is having a field day and the public are currently appalled with our country's inability to catch this perp. It’s not been fun. 

Erwin and I get to the crime scene and find another body, no murder weapon and personal details on the body tracing him back to Stohess. According to his ID he’s a dental surgeon. 

“What was he doing in Trost though?” I ask mainly out loud for my own thought process. Erwin shrugs and hunches over to eye the body a little closer. Any of his thought processes happen entirely internally with Erwin. You’ll never hear so much as a speculation unless he’s sure he’s onto something. Sometimes you’ll be presented with information from such wildly different places that it’s hard to understand how he managed to link them. 

He’s never wrong though. 

Sure, shit hits the fan during the execution of his plans sometimes, but his instincts are always on point. That’s part of why I don’t want him to leave as the Captain of our precinct. He’s so incredibly good at his job that I’m struggling to see myself able to fill his shoes. He seems to have confidence in me though, so I’ll do whatever he orders of me. 

The medical team shows up and is given the go-ahead for preparing the body. We’ll have to wait for tomorrow afternoon for the ME’s report. 

“Alright, so we’ve got no differences in this compared to the others,” Petra says as she approaches. Erwin and I are all ears. “We’ve got no weapon or second set of tracks, no evidence that another person was ever here. It’s like the guy just decided to take his evening run up to this spot and just died. What we do have however is-” she points to the overhead bypass bridge to the side of our location. “One bridge as the only way of accessing the area, joint with video surveillance on both ends. Estimates say the victim has been dead for around three hours and that puts our victim around the bridge during rush hour, provided he died here and wasn’t driven in and dumped.”

“The bridge would have been a parking lot,” I say. 

“Precisely,” Petra says, “which means our perp might have been on the bridge.” 

“Great, I’ll finish up here you two,” Erwin says. “You two go and check out that footage.” 

“Sure thing, Sir,” Petra says and takes me with her to her car where we’re quick to contact the motoring agency for their footage. They tell us it will arrive in the morning when someone is at the office to provide it, so we wait. 

“Fancy getting some dinner before I drop you home?” Petra asks. I nod. 

“What do you fancy?” I ask. 

“Oh, after a homicide? Noodles. It’s gotta be noodles.” 

“Was it all the intestines hanging out that got you into the mood?” I smirk to myself. 

“There weren’t any, Levi.” 

“I’ll never understand your eating habits. Weirdo.” 

“You’re the one to talk. He who would eat margarine on white bread for the rest of his life.” 

“It’s nice.” 

“It’s boring, and not to mention so bad for you.” 

“Alright then, show me something ‘interesting’,” I challenge, to which Petra just grins. 

“Well when you’re competing against plain bread I’ve got so many choices!” She laughs to which I just roll my eyes. She takes us to a noodle bar not far between the middle point between both of our apartments. 

“Hange has been trying to get me to eat here.” 

“And you’ve never gone?” Petra asks as she fills her gob with noodles. I’ve got the same thing, which is actually pretty tasty. It’s a simple, tasty dish with meat, vegetables, spices and noodles. 

“No.” 

“And?”

I roll my eyes with a slight smirk. “Fine, it’s better than butter sandwiches.” 

“Damn straight it is.” 

The following morning it’s back to the briefing room and we’re all eagerly awaiting the footage to come in from the motoring agency. As soon as it does Petra and I are on it. She takes one side of the bridge and I take the other, sat beside each other in a quiet comms room with the PC’s on the fourth floor, keen eyes scanning the footage for anything untoward. 

“So this is when our victim would have died,” Petra points out, scanning over the traffic for any movement. No one is seen getting in or out of any cars, and it’s just as well because you’d think someone in traffic would notice someone dumping a body. There is however a couple of pedestrians on the victim’s side of the bridge. Joggers, a couple walking and a dog walker. 

“Let’s find these pedestrians and see if anyone saw anything.” 

We manage to track through some footage to find out where our pedestrians went, then we head to those buildings to see if anyone knows anyone matching our descriptions. One building is a block of apartments and the concierge is more than happy to direct us to a flat on the first floor. We knock and hear barking, presuming it’s our dog walker. 

“Good morning,” the young man says, holding his large rottweiler back. “Kitt, heel, boy. Sorry about that, how can I help?” 

“We are investigating an incident that happened near the East Garrison bridge last night and we were wondering if you happened to see or hear anything on your walk?” 

“Oh, of course, please come in.” He invites us in and it looks as if he’s some sort of dog fanatic. There’s competition ribbons on the walls and photos of him with various different dogs at what looks like the country’s most prestigious dog show. 

We all take a seat and Petra makes notes for his statement. 

“Uh, yes, I was walking Kitt down by the bridge and he started to get a bit antsy, barking at the railings and everything when I heard what I think was a gunshot. I’m not sure which direction it came from though.” 

“Did you see anyone else on the bridge?” 

He pauses to think about it. “There were a couple of people I passed I think. Maybe some runners and a few people going home from work. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.” 

“Did you see anything below the bridge?” 

“Sorry, it was too dark, I only heard it. I didn’t see anything.” 

I rub my brow once we bid our farewells and Petra and I are stood in the corridor outside his flat. We move onto the next couple, the two that were jogging in the area and find they lived nearby also. We knock on their door and a young woman with blonde hair tied back into a wet ponytail with a housecoat on opens the door. 

We flash our badges and ask if she’s got a minute to chat. 

“Uh, Marlow?” She calls and we instantly hear a panicked ruckus in the flat. I push past her to find a young man attempting to make a beeline for the fire exit along the side of the building. I turn on my heel and run down the hall at full speed, flying down the staircase and throwing myself out the front door of the complex right in time to tackle him to the ground with a heavy, unceremonious thud. 

He doesn’t put up much of a fight and I get the cuffs on him so he can’t get away again. Petra ends up getting the woman upstairs to get dressed and meet me at the car, placing the pair of them into the back of the cruiser and taking them down to the station. 

I take a seat in front of Marlow in the questioning room. Petra stands behind me. 

“Why’d you run?” 

He’s quiet. 

“We just wanted to ask a few questions about an incident on the East Garrison bridge last night. You were there, right?” He glares at me. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Petra hands me a photograph, a still from the surveillance footage putting him on the bridge at about 5:30pm the previous day. 

“Care to explain this then?” His eyes flicker to it for a brief moment and it’s clear he knows what I’m talking about. 

“Look, I didn’t do anything if that's what you’re thinking.” 

“I was merely confirming that you were there. Now we’ve established that you were, what were you doing there?” 

“Running.” 

“Anything else?” I ask. Petra steps a little closer. 

“What were you running from?” She asks, creating a panicked flash to cross Marlow’s eyes. He swallows thickly and he’s started to sweat. We’re onto something here. 

“I didn’t kill him, okay!” 

“Kill who?” 

“It was Hitch!” 

“Hitch?” I ask. Petra informs me it was the other woman who was with him. 

“So Hitch killed him?” 

Marlow’s face scrunches up. “I’ll tell you anything you wanna know but I want immunity.” 

Petra and I exchange a look. 

“Immunity depends on whether you’ve got anything good to share.” 

“You’ve had a bunch of unknown deaths lately right? Random places, random causes of death…” 

“Alright, we’re listening.” 

“Immunity?” He insists, to which I nod. I’ll personally give him a bubble bath if it means we catch the Owl. 

“Alright. It’s a serum.” 

“What does it do?” 

“There’s a specialised gun we use. It fires a thin dart which dissolves. It’s in my apartment.” 

“Who do you work for?” I ask. This is where he starts turning quiet. I wait for an answer that doesn’t come. “It’s not a hard question,” I tell him, but he doesn’t budge. We try extracting the information from him but to no avail. Hitch doesn’t give us anything else either. Their lawyers get involved and over the next week or so things get really infuriating. 

“Where are they going?” I ask Erwin as I arrive for my shift, seeing the pair of them being led out with a couple of men in suits. 

“They were released today. We didn’t have enough to charge them with.” 

“What do you mean? He literally ratted her out!” 

Erwin perks his brows and gestures to the door. I close it loudly. 

“They are Marley nationals. We’re taking what information they gave us and we’re working with that. They're not the leaders of the operation, merely pawns. To avoid an uproar with an already weak political bind with Marley, we’re dropping the charges.” 

“That’s bullshit. They killed a man!” 

“That we can’t prove.” 

“What about those serums we found in their apartment?” 

“Saline solution. Not deadly.” 

“And the ME’s report?” 

“Inconclusive.” 

“Fuck.” 

There's nothing worse than a guilty man or woman walking free. I know they’re up to something. 

“You are not to pursue them, that’s an order.” 

I fold my arms, silently seething. 

“I will handle any complaints they have with the department. Leave them two with me and continue with your other leads with the team.” 

I turn and leave, storming over to Petra’s desk and sitting at the side chair. “Erwin’s letting them walk,” I inform her, sharing the details Erwin’s just told me. 

“Alright, then we look for another angle.” 

“We’re gonna have to if we don’t want more bodies piling up.” 

“I have an idea,” Petra says, gesturing to upstairs. “Come on, guys,” she says to the others. Once we’re all upstairs in a private room, she closes the door and the blinds. 

“What’s up Pet?” Oluo asks. 

“It’s _Petra_ , and I have an idea.” Everyone is quiet and smirking as Petra give Oluo a dirty glare. “I want to dig a little deeper on certain people we’ve been working with on this Paradis case. I’m talking medical examiners, crime scene agents, the works.” 

“You think there's a mole?” 

Petra nods once and everyone stiffens in their seats. 

“We’ll start with the ME’s,” I say. “I want every single report we received versus what they input on the system. Moblit, can you get that to me before the end of the day?” 

“It’ll take a while but yeah.” 

“I’m happy to authorise overtime if you need. We need to get this done.” 

“Alright. I’ll head downstairs and talk to them. See if I can’t find out what’s going on. Mike come with me,” I tell him. They don’t call him a human lie detector for nothing. He’s my best second for this if we’re gonna sniff out any liars working with us. 

Naturally we don’t tell Erwin about this. I trust Erwin but if he does know something about this then he’s not saying anything for a damn good reason. It does unnerve me to suspect him though, so for the time being I decide to trust him as usual. 

Mike and I head down to the ME’s office, the morgue, and we find our team down there working on their lunch. I’ll never understand how they can eat down here with all the funny smells. Mike never comes down here because of the smell alone, a fact evident by the twitch of his brow and the flare of his nostrils when we enter. He's not happy. 

We ask the medical examiner a few questions but he doesn’t give anything away. Nothing useful, at least. Either he’s a polished liar or we’re missing something. 

The frustration levels and dead end leads continue like this for another year. We never find a mole. 

That is until I receive an anonymous letter addressed to myself.

“I could get executed for telling you this,” the letter starts. 

“I work with the Marley military police division responsible for Royal security. King Fritz has your princess.” Oh, looks like the mole isn't on our side. They’ve got one of their own. 

The letter isn’t signed and there’s no postage on the envelope. It’s hard to tell if it’s real but since it relates to a case of such high value, I am required to investigate it either way. I’ll have to tell Erwin about this right away. He’ll probably have a thing or two to say about getting involved with Marley politics. 

I groan and get up to cross the room to Erwin’s office. 

“Erwin we’ve got something. You ain’t gonna like it.” I’m addressing the Trost police commander now. My own promotion is in less than a week. Despite not being able to crack the Paradis case, I manage with almost all others so they’re going ahead and promoting me anyway. Hopefully the promotion will give me more say in what resources I can allocate to which cases. 

“Go ahead,” Erwin says, inviting me to sit down. I hand him the letter and let him read it over. He rubs his forehead and sighs heavily. 

“This isn’t good. We’ll have to tell the royal guard.”


	7. Fancy Sandwiches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare your ovaries, ladies and gents. The fluff goes a little overboard in this chapter. Sorry not sorry. ;D

It takes a month and a half for me to get out of the hospital and another month to be given the all clear to head home to resume my recovery there. At the hospital it was easy to find distractions and pull my attention away from various ugly thoughts, but now I’m back in my own apartment, alone, surrounded by gift baskets and balloons wishing me well, it’s all too easy to feel miserable.

This is all my fault. 

I didn’t listen to Erwin. 

People died because of me. 

The thoughts don’t stop and my inability to get up and kick something has me silently seething in my wheelchair. The apartment feels too quiet. Too empty. I had the neighbors come by and fit a few hand rails and a ramp from the front door so that I could be discharged quicker. The place still feels like mine, but it feels different somehow. Changed. Despite the state of cleanliness I live with, it almost feels more clinical, if that is possible. 

It’s not the flat that’s changed. It’s me. 

I can’t reach things as easily, which is saying something given how short I am. The prosthetic feels strange still and I get pain in the night in places that no longer exist. I notice where Farlan and Isabel tried dusting everything before I got back and missed a couple of specs but I can’t even bring myself to fish out the cleaning basket and finish off those last little bits of dust. 

I get a phone call from Erwin asking me to come down to the precinct for a catch up. Not to do any work but to just keep me in the loop with everything that’s been happening. They had to temporarily relocate everything they could salvage to the fire department after the explosion so they’ve all been sharing the space there while the precinct gets rebuilt.

I use a crutch to get myself from the shower back to my wardrobe and I fish out a shirt and trousers, glaring at my shoes lined up along the bottom of the wardrobe. I sit myself down on the ottoman at the foot of the bed and pull my trousers on, finding them a little bit too big on me. I must have lost weight in the hospital. 

I grab a belt and fasten it up after tucking my shirt in, pulling a jacket over the top of everything. It bothers me that I have to bypass my usual belt groove in favour of a smaller hole. I stick everything I think I might need in my backpack and hang the straps from the wheelchair handles. Everything takes me about fifty times longer than it used to. 

I keep telling myself I’ll get used to it.

I’ll get quicker and more efficient. 

I keep telling myself it will be okay, but it only goes so far in reassuring me. Not all days are good days. I still can’t use my prosthetic for shit and it still hurts whenever I apply pressure to it. Sure, I’m out of the hospital but I’m still healing. The doctors estimate I’ll be out of work for a minimum of at least six or seven months. I’m hoping to make it four or five. 

I learnt a lot from the people staying at the Amputee Rehabilitation centre. It’s amazing what you can still do with so much missing. There were people in there far worse off than me and they were managing to get around and about with relative ease. Then again a lot of them had opted to amputate to increase their mobility. I hadn’t seen mine coming so I didn’t have a chance to mentally prepare myself. It was a useful experience though and I have a lot of new contacts to call on if I ever need advice.

It’s the knowing that I have help that often pulls me out of my funks like the one I’m in today. Maybe going out and seeing some old friends will help lift my mood. 

There are so many things you have to look out for when rolling down a street instead of walking. You don’t have the leisure of just hopping down curbs and crossing the street wherever and whenever you like. It’s a constant lookout for holes, uneven ground, ramps, slopes, waiting for green and red men to change, getting stared at. I never thought I would ever appreciate having taken walking for granted before now. As infuriating as it is, I have a profound respect for those less physically abled than your average Joe. 

I make my way to the station with few issues aside from my own impatience and try to tell myself not to let it get the better of me or making a fool out of myself. The last thing I need is to rush and get hit by a damn bus. 

I’m quite excited to be able to see Eren again. We’ve not spoken in a couple of weeks since he went off on a work retreat. I wheel myself into the station and there he is amongst the other firefighters. Sure he’s young, but for whatever reason he’s taken a liking to me. I’m nervous about pursuing anything though. I’m not used to this sort of affection being directed my way so consistently and I’m afraid I’ll fuck it up or not be able to keep up with him due to my injury. 

The smile he gives me when he greets me makes all of that melt away though. He went south for his retreat where it’s much warmer. 

“How was Shiganshina?” I ask him, he just grins at me. 

“Amazing, Levi, like you wouldn’t believe.” 

“You’re looking tanned…” 

“Yeah, the weather was awesome. How have you been? I heard you’re back home now?” 

“Yeah. It’s a pain in the ass.” 

“Oh damn, what are you doing here? Miss me that much?” I scoff. 

“Erwin called me.” 

“Oh, right! We’ve got the cop shop set up out back,” he says with a wink, gesturing for me to follow him. My eyes are back onto the floor to check for uneven ground and I push myself along with him. I’m not very fast yet so he has to wait for me a couple times. 

“Hey Levi,” Moblit says. There’s a few people missing but that’s probably because they’re still healing. Mike’s got his cast off though. His arm is still in a sling. 

“Hey guys.” 

“Come on over, Levi. Can I get you a drink?” Erwin asks and I nod. Eren waves me off and blows me a kiss, the idiot. I can feel my face heating up and the last thing I want to do is be caught blushing in front of my damn boss and all my colleagues. 

If anyone clocks it they don’t say anything and Erwin returns with a cup of tea, made exactly how I like it. 

“I forgot how much I missed this cheap ass tea.” Erwin laughs at that. 

“We can’t all have tea exclusively from Karanese. Some of us import our leaves.” 

“Yeah, you can taste it,” I smirk.

“Anyway,” Erwin says as he takes a seat beside me. “How are you?” 

I fill him in on the details, minus the part about how I’ve been feeling miserable these last few days. “It’s a lot to get used to.” 

“I can only imagine,” Erwin says, finishing off his tea. “So I bet you’ve been eager to learn what’s been happening here?” 

“Do pigs shit?” I ask him. 

“Well, unfortunately since the royal guard took over the case after Captain Ackerman got involved, we’ve been left in the dark a little bit. It’s one of the strangest hostage situations I think we’ve ever dealt with. Turns out the car was bugged.” 

I huff and nod. It just figures that the little shits had ears everywhere. Our catch up doesn’t take long but at least it’s good to know a few details that the case is in good hands and the country’s best are looking into it while I recover. At least I don’t have to stress out about work while I wait for a resolution. Of course on a few sleepless nights I’ve been finding myself digging through the internet looking for clues that never surface. It helps settle my restlessness. 

Erwin tells me not to worry about the case, that he’s been meeting with all the right people to make sure it all gets resolved as soon as possible. Aside from that, our chat mainly consists of how each of the detectives are doing, both with their work and personal lives. Once we’re done I hear Eren’s singsong voice sounding through the department, calling my name. Erwin nods and I tell him I’ll see him soon. 

“What?” 

“Want a tour of the firehouse?” He leans up against the door frame with that cocky, shit eating grin on his face. 

“Is this you trying to be sexy or something?” 

“You know you want the grand tour,” he says with a challenge in his eyes that I can’t back down from. 

“Only if it involves the pole,” I say, unable to stop myself from smirking. This damn brat really loosens my tongue. I should really be keeping my guard up but he makes it too easy to feel at ease. He wiggles his eyebrows at me and offers to push me but I decline. I need to build my arms back up. Pushing yourself around is hard work at first. 

“And this is the office, pretty boring I know,” Eren shows me, pointing out the different areas until we’re left on the ground floor in the garage with the five fire trucks lined up and sparkling with a fresh wash. Eren rambles on and on with all of the technicalities, how much water they can hold, hose pressure and even what the damn bodywork is made from. He doesn’t spare me any details and it’s a nice distraction. Having been home by myself lately I’d forgotten what it was like to have his voice rambling on and on like he would in the hospital. 

“When do you finish work today?” I ask him. He gives me a sheepish little smile. 

“Well I’m technically on call, but it’s not my scheduled work day. I sort of heard you'd be here today so I’ve been lingering.” 

“Really smooth,” I deadpan. “Did you want to get lunch?” I ask. 

“Oh, like a lunch date?” He wiggles his eyebrows again and I roll my eyes. When he doesn’t try to rectify himself under my unimpressed stare, I cave and waft a hand in mock exasperation. 

“Fine, a lunch date.” 

“Great! I know a good spot nearby, I hope you like fancy sandwiches.” I nod along and he runs off to grab his coat from the wall, pulling it on along with a pair of sunglasses. 

Thankfully the cafe he has in mind is closeby, but I feel a little anxious when I notice they’ve got steps leading up to the terrace. It feels like a lot of extra effort needs to go into something so simple as grabbing a table for lunch. Yet another thing I used to take for granted. 

“Oh shit-” Eren goes to say, but I cut him off. 

“It’s okay, I have crutches,” I tell him, praying he doesn’t try to make a scene out of helping me. I pull my crutches from their spot on the side of my chair and push myself up out of the seat. Eren gestures silently to the chair and I nod at him. He picks it up and sets it just indoors by the front door. I highly doubt anyone would try to steal a fucking wheelchair, so I’m pretty confident in leaving it there. Eren is quick to flag over a member of staff and check to see if they can look after it for us. The gesture doesn’t go missed and I do appreciate him voicing it for me. 

“Good afternoon,” the hostess greets us. It’s like a little day restaurant more than a cafe. It’s a better neighborhood of the city so thankfully I know I can trust the service will be okay. We’re led out onto the sunny terrace under a parasol and we spend a few minutes looking over the menu before placing our orders. 

“How is home life?” Eren asks. 

“It’s okay, I’m getting used to it.”

“Bored without me visiting?” 

“Yeah, actually. There’s only so much Hange and Isabel I can stand. If you want, you’re more than welcome to come round.” 

“I’d love to,” he says and I proceed to save my address to his phone along with my phone number. 

“Ooh, I finally have more than a room number for you,” he laughs. 

“Yeah, don’t make me regret it.” 

“Yes, Captain!” 

The food arrives shortly afterwards and it’s better than I had expected. It sure beats the piss poor attempts at takeout I’ve been using to feed myself these last few days. After a couple of months of hospital food and Isabel’s cooking I’m glad to eat something unhealthy for once. Isabel is a great cook, but since a lot of it’s got no gluten or dairy in it, it’s all very healthy. Tasty, but healthy. Sometimes you just gotta indulge in some sweet and sour pork balls and greasy noodles. 

With lots of sauce. 

“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Eren asks me. 

“I hadn’t planned anything,” I say with a shrug. “You?” 

“Nothing planned if you wanted to do anything, or nothing?” 

“Nothing sounds really good actually.” 

“How about a sofa movie and popcorn?” 

“Sounds like a plan. Your place or mine?” 

“Uh, I take it yours is closeby?” 

“You would be correct.”

“Then yours? I don’t want you travelling half an hour out of your way.” 

“It feels like it took me half an hour to get just here. I used to be able to run it in five minutes.” 

“Oh, so really close by?” 

“Well not exactly, I was just a fast runner.” Eren chuckles as he finishes off his sandwich. When the bill arrives Eren insists so I let him pay and we head back to my apartment via a small corner shop to pick up some popcorn kernels. It’s not a sociable flat given how little time I used to spend there, so it only really houses the bare essentials. 

Once we’re in and I’m stood at the stove with a crutch overseeing the popcorn, Eren calls from the living room asking what sort of movie I fancy, so I tell him to surprise me. My whole selection is fairly limited to comedies and sci-fi, slasher flicks and thrillers and he picks out the third Die Hard movie. 

“Good choice,” I tell him as I bring the popcorn over. He’s already got his cushion cradled up to his chest with one foot up on the sofa under the other like he’s a piece of the fucking furniture. It’s strange having someone over who isn’t one of my usual visitors. 

We get comfortable and I tell him to start it up while I quickly change into something more comfortable, opting for my sweatpants, the left hem pinned up to my shin. I’m almost done with the compression socks so thankfully I’m able to sit without it for a little while. I still have to sleep with one on to calm the swelling down. 

If he’s at all uncomfortable with my missing foot he doesn’t ever mention it. I’ve surmised that it’s not an issue given how he still seems to want to hang around me, even to the point of visiting me in hospital for two months when he really didn’t have any obligation. 

I’m finding myself becoming terribly fond of his company. While McLane is busy arguing with Zeus for the millionth time, I glance to my side and take in Eren’s features. His bright, energetic eyes, his crooked smile. He’s too bright for this world and it baffles me that he’s interested in me: his polar opposite. 

I’m an antisocial, insecure insomniac and this bright creature has found some sort of light to be attracted to. I suppose I’ll have to wait and see what it is he sees in me. 

After the movie finishes I find Eren’s fallen asleep with his head back against the sofa, face turned my way slightly. I shuffle forward, being careful not to wake him as I get up to get a couple of drinks. That is until I remember I don’t exactly have a quiet method of returning them to the living room. I leave the tea to steep in the pot and head back to the lounge, gently nudging his shoulder until he rouses. 

“I made tea but I need you to bring it in,” I say. He smiles lazily and gets himself up to go and get the tray. I thank him and we both get comfortable again on the sofa. Once the tea is ready I pour it into the cups and hand him one. By now it’s a nice rich shade and just the right temperature. 

“This is good, where is it from?” 

“It’s Karanese, but I like to mix a few types together.” 

“Oho, bespoke huh,” he says, humming with approval. I’m pleased he likes it. It’s the one comfort I have that never fails in returning me to some semblance of normality.

The conversation after that is light and the space between us never feels empty even when we fall into a lull, quietly sipping our tea together. It’s still early yet, the sun not having set yet. I glance over at my prosthetic leg and recall needing to go for a walk today to get some practice in. 

“Hey Levi?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

All of a sudden my heart is racing like never before and my cheeks feel so hot I can just tell I’m blushing like a damn schoolgirl. Eren seems a little unsure of himself when I don’t respond straight away, starting to mumble an apology and look embarrassed as he rubs his neck awkwardly. I just hadn’t expected him to be serious about his interest, assuming it’s still just some sort of hero worship. 

“Yeah,” I say softly, not moving but still feeling like I’m racing all of a sudden. Remind me again what you’re doing, brain? Remember what we said about not leading him on ‘cause you’ll snap his little heart in two?

I haven’t got time to think it over because Eren’s looking back my way with an unbelieving look on his face. 

“I’m not gonna say it again,” I warn him, to which he grins and scoots a little closer, scooping my hand up in his own and smirking mischievously. He places a chaste little kiss on the top of my hand like some fucking fairy tale prince. Who _is_ this guy? 

“Not convinced?” Eren says, clearly picking up on the dumbfounded look plastered to my face. I’d clearly been expecting something else and the little shit knows it. I pull my hand away. 

“Dumbass,” I mutter, trying to reign in my embarrassment. I feel him move and then there’s a couple of fingers on my chin, forcing my attention back toward Eren and holy shit when did he get so close? 

He tilts his head like he’s had years of practice, knowing exactly where to position himself so our noses don’t brush as he presses his lips to mine. I can feel his hand resting on mine as he holds the kiss for a long moment before pulling back. I look him in the eye, searching for any sort of distaste or dislike, but I find none. I just let him curl his fingers around my hand, silently praying he leans in for another. 

“Better?” he asks, his breath tickling my chin. I just snort and nod once, moving my free hand up to his neck to gently pull him back into another kiss. His skin and hair is rougher than I’d expected but he feels so warm. I can tell with his subtle movements and twitches that he’d like to deepen the kiss and lean closer, but doesn’t make the move. I’m not yet confident enough to initiate it either. 

“Much better,” I crack a smirk once we separate again and I find the flush on Eren’s cheeks and lips suit him well.


	8. Royally Screwed

Erwin informed the Eldian Royal Guard and thus we were all visited and interviewed about every inch of the Paradis case. At least now they’re treating the case seriously. I was obligated to tell them any suspicions I have, which included my guess that the Marley royalty has been sending spies to Eldia to quietly take out all of the Eldian notable figures, all while pinning the blame on one of our organised crime syndicates. 

They ask me what foundation I have to stand on with relation to these claims. They are fairly big, accusing a country’s monarch of organised homicide.

“All you have to do is read a newspaper,” I tell the interviewer. “Marley’s hated us ever since we became an independent country using what was once their land. All you have to do is take one visit to a Marley city to see the people are being fed lies about us. Their press is telling them we’re crumbling from the inside.” 

The interviewer doesn’t contest my reasoning, just makes a note. The whole country knows it. It’s been tense for twenty years since we established the independent state of Eldia. Crime was quick to spread to Eldia with a potential alteration of Marley laws, but given the land mass it consumes, we don’t operate too differently to when we were part of Marley. It’s essentially the same place but with a stupid fucking imaginary border dividing people. It’s no different to any other country. 

“Thank you for your time, Sergeant.”

I get up and take my leave and once the royal guard has taken their leave Erwin calls me into his office. I assume we’re back to business as usual since the handover has been completed. 

“What’s up?” I ask, closing the door when Erwin gestures to it. 

“I wanted to ask you if you would like to get lunch together today?” He asks, keeping his expression entirely neutral and composed. I narrow my eyes at him. He never asks me this unless we’re staying late to work a case. There must be something up he doesn’t want to talk about at work. 

“Yeah, did you fancy getting burritos?” A code we use when we need to let each other know if something fishy is going on. His expression doesn’t change and he nods.

“I’m dying for a burrito. Preferably with as much meat as possible.” Another code. Shit’s going down and he can’t talk about it here. The place might be being watched. 

“What time?” 

“Usual time?” Erwin is trying to keep the conversation appear as nonchalant as possible and we sort it out between us within a matter of seconds. To anyone overhearing, it would sound like your average colleague to colleague lunch break plans. To us, it’s a mission briefing. 

We meet outside in exactly one hour, in an open space park on a bench. True to his word Erwin brings burritos from the mexican place closeby and we both sit in the cool spring sunshine tucking into our meals so as to not arise suspicion. 

“What’s up?” 

“The Guard’s got the precinct on special orders to confirm the letter’s validity. Zackly has authorised for one of my men to go undercover in Marley.” My eyes widen slightly. 

“Now I’ve done my homework and as much as you would make the prime candidate, I can’t send you.” 

“Why?” I ask with a mouthful of burrito. Damn Erwin, got my favourite flavour too. 

“Your uncle is Captain of the Marley Royal Guard.”

“Fuck, he actually went for it huh…” I haven’t heard from him in years. Never particularly wanted to, but still. 

“I’ve asked Nifa.” I understand the reasoning behind the choice.

“What’s the job look like?” 

“I’ve got us contacts that can get someone in as a housekeeper in the Royal Palace. All of their records will be manufactured so as to not arise suspicion when going through Marleyan security checks. She’s already been briefed.” 

Is there nothing he doesn’t think of? 

“We’re also promoting you to Captain this week, wear your best on Friday for the press, and please be pleasant.” I snort. 

“When am I ever unpleasant?” Erwin just smiles. 

“Let’s head back then,” he says, crumpling his burrito wrapper and throwing it in the nearby bin. 

Nifa works undercover for just under two years before she finally relays confirmation of Princess Reiss. She is alive and well but bound to the indoors of the Royal palace. It takes Nifa that long to build trust enough to let her go into restricted wings of the palace. She’s been so careful and it does ease me somewhat. She’s young and not too pretty so she blends in well with all of the other housekeepers and servants. She’s an incredible cop. 

While she’s away Erwin insists that we keep an eye out for any other notable murders with unknown circumstances. It’s no coincidence that people of certain power have been dropping dead. Thankfully with my new increase in position I have a lot more say in what goes on around the precinct. New people grovel and the oldies all take the piss. I can’t say I enjoy the extra work all that much but I enjoy the freedom it gives me. I can manage at the end of the day. 

Another perk of being forever alone: I can work ‘till the cows come home. 

The job suits me and I do it well. 

That is until a spanner gets thrown into the works and I come in one morning to find scowls on everyone’s faces and someone sitting in my office with their back to the door. A sinking feeling in my gut tells me exactly who I suspect it to be if the greasy black hair is anything to go by. My anxiety is confirmed when I step through the door and none other than Captain Kenneth Ackerman of the Marley Royal Guard is here to greet me. 

“Levi.” 

“Kenny.” 

“How are you-” he attempts to start some pointless small talk but I cut him off straight away. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I had heard through the grapevine that your precinct was investigating the Royal family.” 

I narrow my eyes at him. Where the fuck had he heard that? Someone probably leaked something to the wrong person over the last two years. It’s hard to say at this point. He taps away at his phone and pulls up a picture of Nifa mopping a long hallway, clearly within the palace. 

“You might want to rethink your next move,” he warns me. Nifa’s cover has been compromised - I have to get her out of there. “Don’t worry,” he adds. “She's just fine for now. I would however hate to see our little housekeeper accidentally slip on the wet tiles and snap her pretty neck.” His voice is like the worst type of cheap syrup. Sickly sweet and disgusting. 

I’m speechless, which is probably for the best, given that any questions I want to ask him would confirm his suspicions even further. 

“Drop the case, Captain,” he says to me as he reaches the door and slips his hat back on, tucking his hands beneath the hem of his jacket to slip his hands into his pockets, very clearly showing off his pair of pistols on his hips. As soon as he’s gone I’m unscrewing my phone and checking for taps. Who knows how long he was in here by himself to wreak havoc. I turn the office upside down, which doesn’t take long considering how clean and well organized it is. That's probably the best difference that came with my promotion. I get Erwin’s old space and I get to have it clean and organised. 

Anyway Kenny is an even bigger idiot than I thought if he thinks I’m going to drop this case. I need to tell Erwin about our visit. 

“Let’s drop the case for now,” Erwin says over the phone, leaving me gobsmacked. 

“You’re fucking shitting me right?” I can tell the detectives out in the open office are wary of my pacing and joint heated conversation behind the closed door of my office. “We’re so close to the Owl. He’s in that palace!” I try to stress. 

“We don’t have any solid proof.” 

“That doesn’t mean we’re not fucking close, Erwin. What have we been wasting our time on for the last four years, huh?” 

“I understand you are frustrated-” 

“Damn fucking right I’m frustrated. We’ve been working this case for five years and you tell me to turn around and drop it because one stupid royal fucking guard tells us to back down? This is bullshit and you know it! Why then is our Princess in their palace? Why do they have chemical labs reporting directly to the monarch?” 

“It’s too much to be a coincidence,” Erwin agrees, and I know he knows I’m right. The evidence Nifa has uncovered has been astounding. I wedge my phone up against my ear and fish out my unlabeled drug phone as Erwin continues telling me to drop it until it becomes safe again.

“We can’t just drop it Erwin. Too many people are too involved.” 

“I’m aware. Trust me, Levi. I’ll sort this out.” 

“I’ll trust you but I’m pulling Nifa out of there. Her cover’s been blown.” I tap out a code word to the phone we gave her, indicating for her to pull out as soon as possible. 

“Alright. I’ll see to it she’s collected from the drop off point.” 

“Text me when you get her, okay?” 

“I will. And Levi?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’ll figure something out.” 

Turns out his idea of figuring it out is to get me to put a presentation together to pitch to the relevant military and royal police leaders including the Eldian King Reiss himself. Erwin asks me to come with him but Erwin does most of the presenting. Since he makes it clear during the presentation that I have been on the front line for most of the investigation, a lot of the questions the board ask are directed to me. 

They inform us that with all of the information they might be able to formulate a diplomatic way of ironing out the tension between the two royal families. I sincerely hope so, considering it’s their petty little feud that’s getting citizens killed. 

“It’s the best we can do,” Erwin says to me after we leave and he’s driving us back to the precinct in his car. I can’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable that someone else will be doing a job that Trost’s best detectives couldn’t manage. Maybe with their additional resources they’ll actually be able to manage. 

“Erwin, I want to put eyes on that palace regardless of what the brass says.” 

“I agree, consider it done.” I know Erwin would back whatever idea I had so long as it was sane and well thought through. “I’ll pick out a few people for the job, get them a couple of tickets to Marley and have them cover as tourists. 

“Great, thanks.” 

The following day I am met with an unmarked package on my desk.


	9. Calendar Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Probably the chapter y'all been waiting for.

It’s been nine months since the bombing. I’m as healed as I’m going to get, physically. I still experience a little bit of phantom pain now and then but these days I’ve got my prosthetic on most of the time and am able to walk primarily unaided. It’s still a work in progress but with all of the exercise I’ve been doing these last couple of months I’ve managed to get my muscle mass back up and even start lightly jogging using the hand rails of the treadmills. 

Eren and I have been counting the start of our relationship since the day we first kissed. Eren had asked me to be his boyfriend following that. I still don’t know what possessed me to agree but I’m yet to regret anything, which is good. 

I’m going back to work in stages. I’ve had two days so far and I’m going to be slowly but surely going in for one extra day each week until I’m comfortable doing full time again. I’m still Captain of the precinct and I still hold all the previous authority, the only difference being I’m not allowed to do any field work until I’ve passed a number of extensive tests proving my fitness and ability to control my movement with my prosthetic. The doctors say it might never happen and to not get my hopes up. Erwin assures me that I can still work as Captain even without the field work. 

I don’t mind so far. They only have my best interests in mind so I’ll work a desk for as long as it takes. I’m hitting the gym a lot though to keep active, so when the time comes that I am ready and I’ve gotten really good with my leg, I’ll breeze through it. I hope. 

I’m not ready yet anyway, so it’s a relief I’m being eased back into things nice and slowly. 

Speaking of a nice, slow start to my day back at work, Hange is sat in my office with a huge grin on his face. 

“What?” 

“We’re just happy you’re back.” 

“I’m happy to _be_ back, now cut the crap, what do you really want?” 

“Spill. Did you guys bang yet?” 

“Get out.” 

“Aw! No!” Hange wails, drawing looks from the office as I try and shove him out. 

“Now!” I yell at him. Insistent little shit feels entitled to every single detail of my life, especially my love life. Yes, Eren and I have been seeing each other but only really in casual settings or alone together at one of our apartments, usually mine. 

He’s not yet seen me naked and needless to say that means we’ve not had sex yet. I’ve been terrified of the idea despite all of the reassurance that there is no pressure from Eren as well as the copious amounts of research I’ve been doing lately. 

It’s not that I don’t get aroused by things, yes, Eren is a good looking guy, but I’m nervous and I’ve never done it before. There’s so many things I could fuck up. I’m a one-legged raging virgin who is cripplingly self conscious. Not that I would ever admit that out loud. I’m hoping to overcome that soon though, given that it’s Eren’s birthday soon and I want to surprise him with a tasty slab of… me. 

I cringe at the thought. 

I don’t even know how to have dirty thoughts. Hange tried teaching me but all I could do was make immature shit jokes and laugh whenever he mentioned anything cock related. I’d get all flustered and hot and have no idea what to do with myself. Whenever that happens I end up being rude and distant to deny the fact that I’m feeling anything other than composed. 

What if Eren doesn’t like me with my clothes off or my stump turns him off? 

There’s only one guaranteed way to find out, and that’s to bite the bullet and see what he says. He’s pretty understanding so I’m sure it will all go fine. The only thing that will fuck his birthday sex up is me. I’ve never had a preference to which gender I’m attracted to, all I know is I’ve never desired sex. It just looks messy and unnecessarily emotional. Sure, I’ve always wanted that sort of intimate company everyone rants and raves about, a connection with another, but until now I’ve never really come close. 

On one side I’m worried Eren will leave me if I’m shit in the sack and the other side is telling me he’ll leave me for not getting into bed at all. 

“Boss,” I hear from my office door. Mike has a guest. It’s Keith. I wave him in. 

“Levi.”

“Keith.” 

“You well?” 

“As can be, you?” 

“As can be.” 

“What do you want?” I ask him, pointing to the chair. He sits. 

“You’re going to hate me for this but it’s been suggested that this year’s calendar be a special edition between the Trost PD and the Trost FD.” 

I’m never going to escape these stupid fucking charity events, even with a fucking leg off. 

“You’d get to shoot alongside Eren if you wanted.” Oh, now he’s got my interest.

“You’ve worked with him longer than I have, you should know that’s more a curse than a blessing,” I snort, amused. Keith laughs dryly. 

“Still, I figured since you two were.. you know..” 

“Yeah, I get it. I’ll do it.” It’ll make Eren really happy. He loves those stupid fucking calendars.

It doesn’t take long for the shoot to be organised and come the day I’m feeling a little anxious about taking my kit off. I’ve done it a few times before as per Erwin’s orders - I suppose there aren’t many more bizarre things to be ordered to do in my line of work. Getting naked is probably pretty close to the top of the list. Not including the incident with the hot dog stand which I refuse to think about. 

“Fucking hotdogs,” I mutter as Eren parks up right next to a hotdog stand. It’s as if the universe was reading my mind and mocking me for it. 

“Did you want one?” 

“No.” 

Eren links his arm with mine and we head into the charity building. The Scouts give us their welcome as usual and tell us we’re doing an outdoor shoot this time around which makes a change. There’s a coach outside waiting for us and we all filter in, filling it with some thirty people. Eren shuffles in and sits next to me at the front. I can’t be dealing with battling aisles on a bus. Especially not at the speed I walk with. 

Once we’re on set, I spot a couple of police cruisers and a fire truck we’re borrowing for the day. The Scouts have a tent set up for things like costume, makeup and props and the team are finishing up with their set up. 

The guys all filter through and get themselves undressed and robed. I’m handed a robe and shuffle into a dressing room. Suddenly I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been. I’ve been shot, stabbed and nearly blown up. I’ve been spat on, cursed at and threatened with death but suddenly the prospect of taking my clothes off seems like the worst of them all. 

Eren calls for me when it’s clear I’m the last one out. Thankfully I’m October again, so they’re running through all of the months in order as per their set team planned. It seems the FD have contributed some funds this year too, it feels like more of a professional job than usual. 

“What?” 

“Are you alright in there?” He asks behind the curtain. “Are you decent?” 

“Yeah,” I snort. Asking if I’m decent when I’m meant to be stripping off for a nude photo shoot. He pokes his head around the corner, clearly in his own robe, eyeing me with a questioning look on his face. He doesn’t need to say it for his confusion to register. 

“Is there a problem?” He asks quietly. “Did you need help?” Always so considerate. I take a deep breath and shrug, sitting on the little stool. He shuffles behind the curtain, closing it behind him and crouching down when I don’t answer him. A hand on my right knee brings my attention back to him. 

“You don’t have to do this you know?” 

“I said I would.” 

“Are you nervous?” Eren asks, looking amused. 

“So what if I am?” I huff at his little grin. 

“I never expected Captain Levi to be nervous of anything.” 

“There’s a reason you’ve not seen me naked since the bombing.” 

“And you think I’ll love you any less when I do?” I furrow my brows at that. He’s never actually said he loves me before. I wonder if he noticed what he said. He must pick up on the slight narrowing of my eyes because he just grins. “Now get your kit off and let’s sell some calendars. I can always make it up to you later...” 

“Fine. Fuck off then.” Eren gladly leaves with a smirk, leaning over to kiss my cheek before escaping. I slip out of my clothes and leave them hanging up, pulling my robe on with a sigh. Time to bite the first bullet. 

I’m a bit nervous when I step out but the guys all seem to greet me with nothing but smiles and pats on the back, telling me how good it is to have me back. It’s great how supportive everyone has been these last nine months. It’s made it easier to deal with than if I were by myself. 

I’ve got my bathrobe on with my bare right foot and left prosthetic on. I’ve got a sock on under the prosthetic and it’s nothing special looking - a skin tone socket with a grey bar connecting the foot and the knee joint. It gets me around, so I can’t really complain. I’m grateful I’m not bound to crutches or a wheelchair any longer, even if my gait is a little bit off. 

I still get worried it’s going to fall off mid-stride. I haven’t felt anxiety like this in a long time so it’s a bit of an unpleasant surprise to be feeling so vulnerable all of the time. 

Thankfully Eren is by my side for the wait. We all get to have a giggle at the guys taking their photos, covering their bits with hoses and police hats and various other lewd looking props from both of our departments. I get quite into it and with as much fun as everyone seems to be having it gets me looking forward to the tenth swap. 

I get a final wave of anxiety when it’s my turn to strip in front of the camera. I learned a trick last time I was here, to slip a hat underneath the robe before shucking it, so I repeat that and a runner comes along to take our bathrobes. I stand there awkwardly like I’m shitting at a funny angle (as I always do until I’m told what to do at these things,) and I get a good look at Eren finally. I try my hardest to keep my eyes up, but I’ve seen so much dick today it’s hard to not notice it a few times throughout the shoot. 

Before our first instruction I feel totally out of my element. I’ve got a big dented scar on my right thigh and obviously the missing left leg from the knee down. I still have a few scratch scars and mottled skin from a few burns that healed funny with skin grafts, leaving the red patches painfully obvious against my pale skin. Unlike Eren I don’t tan into some sort of Krolvian God. I burn like a piece of toast and then spend days withstanding the irritation of flaky skin and funny coloured patches. So needless to say our pictures are probably gonna look like fucking night and day. 

Thankfully as soon as we go through a few different poses, I start to get a lot more relaxed. By now a lot of the other guys have meandered away for food, so I don’t have as big an audience as the rest of them had. 

“Alright,” Rico the photographer says. “Now let’s get the halloween props in here. We’re talking sexy vampires and sexy werewolves guys. Growl for me Eren!” She smirks and Eren obeys, his cute little dog ears and fangs on display as he hikes his leg up against the wheel of a cop car. 

We’re only on set for about twenty minutes, but my favourite shot has to be the one with myself pointing a fucking water hose at Eren and spraying him down with water. It doesn’t help that the hose is positioned just so it covers my crotch. I’m surprised we haven’t had any awkward boners today. We robe up and take a look over Rico’s shoulder at her laptop and she shows us the shots. They turned out really well. 

Next up is the November and December guys and we do a final shoot at the end with everyone, intended for the cover. This one takes a bit longer due to so many people needing direction, but the final results come out brilliantly, despite a few shots where Hange was blinking or Mike looked like he was snorting cocaine off his partner’s shoulder. 

Everyone ends up going for drinks afterwards back in the city and I end up outdrinking Eren by a long shot. I can still drink, but the desire to get drunk has completely left my system. The last thing I need is to be literally legless, plus drunk. As it is, Eren is already hanging off me as if I have the strength to keep him up. I’m managing as we walk slowly back home. Somehow. 

We sit ourselves down at the train station and Eren leans back with his arm wrapped around my shoulders. 

“Remind me why you’re- Levi you’re so good at drinking!” he slurrs. “Like really good, like.. _Really_ good!” 

“And you’re really good at getting drunk,” I tell him fondly, gripping his hand that’s resting on my upper arm. 

“I’m not that drunk,” he protests, swaying forward and nearly taking me with him onto the fucking platform. I fish through my bag and hand him a bottle of water. 

“Drink the whole thing or you’re staying at your own place tonight.” 

“Staying at my place?” He gasps quietly and leans in heavily to whisper loudly. He’s awful at being quiet. Or calm. Ever. 

“Well I’m not taking you all the way home to send you back in this state. You’re staying over.” 

He gasps again, literally giggling as the train pulls up. 

“But you never let me stay over,” he whispers dramatically as I drag him up off his feet and onto the train. “Is it because you don’t like me?” he whines as we pick a seat. Thankfully it’s late and the carriage is fairly empty. 

“No, I do.” 

“You do like me? I think I told you already but I love you,” he mumbles as he leans against my shoulder. I take his hand in mine and gently rub the top of it. He seems a bit more somber than earlier. Usually he’s a bit of an angry drunk but he’s calmed down now and turned into more of a whiny, honest drunk. 

“You told me.” 

“And do you love me?” 

I press my lips together. “Can’t we talk about this when you’re sober?” 

“But do you?”

“And if I do?” 

“Then I’d be really happy,” he sighs, squeezing my hand and nuzzling up against my shoulder a little more. 

“Then I guess I do.” 

I lean down to realise he’s fallen asleep on me but thankfully the train journey isn’t very far. Ten minutes later I’m gently nudging him to wake up and since he managed to drink his water he seems a lot more lucid now. We make it back to my flat in one piece and he curls up on the sofa while I fix some tea. 

I have half a mind to let him sleep there, but there’s a bigger part of me wanting him to sleep somewhere comfortable. Namely, my bed. Yet another part of me hopes he does fall asleep there so I don’t have to go through the awkwardness of potentially declining him for anything other than sleeping. 

A rustle from the living room confirms he’s still awake when I return and we both drink our tea fairly quickly. I hand him a couple of painkillers for good measure to ease the impending hangover. 

“Thanks,” he says, taking my mug and going to wash up. I join him in the kitchen and as soon as he’s done drying his hands I go up to him and give him a hug. It’s a slow and gentle hug but one of those that demands comfort. Eren’s very good at giving comfort and right now I feel like I’m gonna need a truckload of it. 

I lean up and kiss him softly. 

“You still wanted to repay me for earlier?” I smirk at him. I’m nervous as fuck but I want to get at least a little bit of something done before his birthday so I don’t feel completely useless. Despite all of the reassurance and the fact I know there's no pressure, I still can't shake the annoying feeling that I’ve gotta take at least a small step if I plan on keeping him around. It's all bullshit but my anxiety just feeds the stupid thoughts. Eren is great for helping me forget all of that though. 

“Uh, do bears shit in the woods?” 

“Language,” I chastise him. His mouth hangs open and he shakes his head at me. 

“Come on, then.” I take his hand and he follows, hitting the living room lights when we leave. I lead him into the bedroom and I spot him swallow. I pull him closer before I get nervous again and I realise that with how gentle Eren is being, he’s just as nervous as I am. 

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he says. 

“I’m not asking you to sit on my face and whip me. Maybe start with kissing, like, normal people?” 

“Oh, yes. That, I can do!” Eren grins brightly and laughs like he usually does, some of his worry clearly dissipating as he moves close enough for our arms to slink around each other and our lips to meet. Eren presses himself up against me, not too insistently, but I can still feel my heart racing. I'm nervous but excited at the same time. 

Eren turns to sit on the bed, bringing me with him into his lap. 

“Do whatever you want to me,” he says. “I don't mind.” So I lean in to kiss him again, deeper this time. At least this is something I know I'm good at. We’ve sucked face on the sofa enough times these last few months. I've always felt awkward by not initiating anything though, so this time I shake things up a little by rocking my hips against Eren’s, getting a feel of the growing hardness there. 

Eren groans into my mouth but makes no effort to stop me, so I continue at an excruciatingly slow pace. When he gets impatient (like he always does), he grips my waist and rolls me to the side, hooking a leg over mine and returning to kissing me. I feel his hand tugging at my shirt and before long there is a warm hand on my stomach, creeping higher across every bump and groove of muscle. 

“I think I much prefer you without any clothes,” Eren whispers into my ear with a tone I've rarely heard from him. It's impatient and lustful and all kinds of sexy. _He wants me_. It makes me anxious and excited at the same time. Anxious that I honestly have no fucking clue what I’m doing and I’m afraid I’ll fuck something up. 

If I can convince him to keep the lead, I’ll be fine. 

“The feeling is mutual,” I breathe, gripping onto his shirt and hiking it up. Eren takes the hem from me and slips it off over his head. I’m literally salivating as I watch him strip. He gives me a little space to shift up to the center of the bed and he tells me to make myself comfortable as he scoots down the bed. 

His little strip tease is not as sexy as he probably thinks it is, and he leaves me laughing more often than anticipating, but it’s so clearly Eren that I can’t help but want him when he starts his crawl back up the bed. I look up at him and lick my lips as he moves above me on his hands and knees. 

“Let’s not go all the way today,” he whispers as he kisses my ear. He must feel me sag with relief as he leans back to smile at me. I nod and he returns to kissing my neck. “Let me look after you today. Tell me to stop and I will. Okay?” 

“Okay…” 

He kisses down along my neck and collarbone and starts peppering my chest with kisses. He’s had his hands most places on me, I even let him get me off through my jeans that one time, but he’s never had me without my clothes off. My breath sounds heavier than usual and it’s all I can hear as I clench my eyes shut in time for Eren’s kisses to travel farther south. I can only make an educated guess at where he’s going and I don't regret the choice to let him. 

My chest feels like fire and Eren must be reading my mind or something because he unbuttons my shirt slowly as he peppers kisses down my stomach and his fingers start unfastening my belt. Every movement is slow and deliberate and those bright greeny-amber eyes look in my direction at every movement. He’s making sure I don’t throw him off... again. 

The amount of times I’ve chickened out when he’s made a move makes me feel uncomfortable and ashamed. Guilty, even. I’m so appreciative that he’s as patient as he is. I don’t think most guys would have the patience to wait this long, although I’m not exactly the most experienced so I can’t really make good guesses. From what I hear I'm guessing it's a long time to go without much sexual 'activity' and highly unusual. Eren only seems to love me more each day, so we must be doing something right without the sex. 

“Is this alright?” Eren asks once my belt is undone and the top button of my trousers are undone. I can’t exactly decline him now when he’s kissing at my crotch over my trousers. It feels tight and a little uncomfortable and feels as if I might come any second. It feels awful knowing I might finish so quickly. I don’t have the confidence to return the favour just yet. 

“You’re overthinking things,” he adds on with a little smile. I huff and cover my face with my hands. He’s right though. 

“I think I might come any minute,” I mutter. 

“And?” 

“And it’s embarrassing.” 

“Would it be less embarrassing if I came first?” I furrow my brows at that and stare at him. My face is bright red, I can feel it. 

“‘Cause uh, I’m pretty close myself, too,” he admits. 

I groan before telling him to just get on with it and he returns to unzipping my pants. Thankfully as soon as everything’s out I feel far less embarrassed. It feels even less embarrassing when his hand around my cock turns into his lips around my cock. 

The embarrassment goes flying out the window when his tongue dips into the slit at the tip and his mouth twists and bobs up and down. Jesus Christ this feels incredible. How have I not exploded yet? My fingers slip into Eren’s hair and I try my best to hold onto it without pulling it too hard. He groans around my cock and I notice his free hand is currently down his own pants as he strokes himself, the sight of which only makes me even more aroused. 

“Eren. Eren, I’m gonna-” I’m cut off by an embarrassingly loud moan I didn’t even know myself capable of, and Eren grunts as he strokes himself in time with his tongue lapping at my cock. I try my best to commit as much of his technique to memory. I want to return the favour as soon as I’m confident enough. 

Which turns out an orgasm is a great boost to one’s confidence. 

Why did I not learn this sooner. 

As soon as we both come down from our highs, Eren lying across my lap as we both pant heavily, I’m eager to have my arms around him. He scoots up the bed when I hold my hands out to him and he cuddles up against my chest, kissing my cheek softly. 

“I really do think I love you, Levi.” He may have been drinking but I do believe him.

“I’ve been scared shitless of saying it back.” 

“How come?” 

“I figured you’d realise I’m a shit lay and leave.” Eren perks an eyebrow and sits up a little to stare at me. “Yeah, I know, don’t give me that look. I know you’re better than that.” 

“Damn straight I am. I don’t want to be with you because you’re my idol, or ‘cause I just want to get laid,” he says. “I’ve spent time getting to know you and that’s who I fell in love with. Hell, you could have all of your limbs missing and I’d still feel the same.” 

“You’d love a cadaver?” Eren smacks my chest and I smirk, despite knowing I’m only making jokes to hide how I feel. 

“You know what I mean. You don’t have to be good or bad in bed. It’s a bonus, not a requirement. If you never wanted to do anything I would still stick around.” 

Well, that makes me feel better. 

“I still want to make you happy though,” I tell him while I’m feeling uncharacteristically honest. Must have been the orgasm loosening me up. 

“And you do already, so, so much.” Eren reinforces with a kiss and a tender smile, brushing the stuck hair from my forehead gently. 

“I’ve been worried, that’s all.” 

“And you gotta tell me sooner so I can tell you how stupid you sound when you say crap like that.” 

I actually find myself laughing at that. He’s got a point. 

“Good point. I will.” 

“Good. Now, let’s take a shower. I stink.” 

“Together?” 

“Unless you didn’t want to?” 

“No, I’ll try it.” 

“Great!”


	10. Butter Sandwiches

When the people of Marley find out what their King had been doing there is a country-wide uproar. The people demand he step down from power and the capital city faces riots against the palace. It will take a few years but eventually the two countries will re-merge under the Reiss rule. 

The Princess of Reiss is returned home shortly after the Marleyan people learn the truth, and formal apologies are given. Not even their government knew of what was going on behind Royal walls. The people of Eldia celebrate and each of the detectives alive who were involved with returning the Princess are awarded and commended publicly, including myself. The ceremony is a lavish affair with hoards of people lining the streets as the police cars make their way to the palace. 

The Trost Fire Department is also here to receive awards for their assistance in the cleanup of various terror attacks that have happened over the last few years from what we all know now originated from Marley Royal direction. 

As much as I’d love to be standing beside Eren right now, admiring his formal attire, the Trost PD is called up amongst the final people. I can’t help but smile with pride as Eren kneels before the Queen and her daughter, Historia Reiss, to receive his medal of honour. It is deserved, since the reason I’m stood here at all is because of Eren and his teammates at the FD. I’ll always appreciate him for that, and seeing him rewarded for his troubles makes it all the more worth it. 

There’s a particularly close bond between the FD and the PD of Trost these days now, especially since both buildings know how close Eren and I have become. Not to mention the fact that they saved our asses that day, roughly one year ago. 

My gait isn’t quite as it used to be, but I’ve gotten pretty used to using my prosthetic now. It’s not perfect but with time I’ll get better with it. I still prefer a cane when I can, and I’ve managed to calm down my sense of urgency to get back into running action now that the Paradis case has been resolved. That and a few firm words from Erwin helped persuade me to keep myself safe. There’s nothing worse than dying a pointless death. Erwin supposes it wouldn’t suit me. It wouldn’t suit anyone. 

Anyway, our department are called up and Erwin and I are the final two to be awarded our medals. They’re heavier than they look and it feels a lot like closure to have the Princess herself pinning it to my lapel. She’s safe, the deaths have stopped, Kenny got what he deserved in the form of execution for organising the entire coup and all of his lackeys ended up with jail time long enough to stretch to the moon and back. Sure, I wasn't able to see it through to the end myself, but I'm glad it's over.

The crowds cheer loudly once everyone has received their medals and we receive a personal thank you and a handshake from the King himself. The Princess even gives me a hug. We return to our lines and all salute and the ceremony comes to an end after a few words of thanks from the Royal family and the main government heads. 

Once everyone begins to dissipate after the Royals head back indoors, Eren comes and finds me and gives me a quick peck, smiling brightly with his own medal shining proudly on his chest. I run my finger across it and pull his neck down a little, kissing him lightly. 

“Well deserved, Eren.” 

“You too, Captain,” he says, smiling against my lips. 

Thankfully life returns to relative normality after the whole Paradis scandal is wrapped up, and I’m back at my desk working on breaking and entering, perp interrogations, dishing out files like I used to and organising the team of detectives at my precinct. I hired us an Administration manager so Moblit can get out into the field a little bit more. He seems to be enjoying the change of scenery, which is good. 

After a year and a half or so since the amputation I’m deemed fit enough to return to call outs, so long as it’s nothing too aggressive where I might be needed to run quickly or defend myself physically. Yes, there are a few sticky situations but I always go out with a second, never by myself. Hange and my squad all have my back and Erwin even makes an appearance from time to time. Even brings non-work related burritos on occasions too. 

A lot of the time it feels like my work life hasn’t really changed from what it once was. I still have painful stakeouts with Hange’s awful music taste (that I secretly adore), and I still end up spending most of my time in the office as per usual. I don’t miss running through windows and getting into fist fights. Yes, I’m good at them but now I’ve got Eren I feel much more motivated to look after myself. Eren has also been taking significantly less bravado into work, looking after himself more too. It's funny the effects another person has on you without even realising. I'm a better person for it. 

Speaking of Eren, the two of us are doing just fine. I never thought we’d last this long, that I’d fuck something up and he’d leave me, but he’s proven more resilient than I’d given him credit for. He’s still his dorky self with his clingy, socks-to-bed wearing self that hogs far too much of the blanket and drinks from the carton. 

On the other hand you’ve got me who spends far too long on the toilet and sometimes forgets to feed the plants. Not a bad match if you ask me. 

Eren and I are spending a long weekend in Shiganshina. He tells me nowadays unless you knew I had a fake leg, you wouldn’t be able to tell by the way I walk which is a relief. My gait has improved so much since the leg healed properly and ‘settled’, allowing for a second prosthetic to be fitted since the stump shrunk a bit. This new one fits like a well fitting shoe. I can wear it all day without it getting uncomfortable or fearing that it will fall off. It’s a big part of my improved mobility back at work. 

It’s thankfully a little bit more realistic, too, so I don’t mind wearing shorts around the house. I imagine by the time summer rolls around back in Trost I may not mind going bare-legged on my days off. 

“You think you could hide a gun in your leg?” Eren asks as we’re sat on the balcony of our hotel room. I shrug at him, rolling my eyes. 

“You’re an idiot, you know?” 

“Your idiot.” 

“Tch.” 

Eren gets up, wearing only his bathrobe and smirks as he parts it to allow himself space to straddle my hips. Needless to say his birthday sex went well, and we’re now having at each other on a fairly regular basis. I never liked the idea of sex, but given how comfortable I am with Eren I don’t mind as long as it’s him. He’s very clean about the whole thing too, always keeping condoms about to limit the fluids. 

My hands slip up his thighs and gently take hold of his hips, thumbs rubbing little circles into the squishy bits of his pelvis. He rocks his hips against mine as he drapes himself on top of me, hands holding himself up beside my waist on my seat as he kisses me softly. I hum with appreciation of the gesture and let him leisurely lay all over me like some huge cat. 

“Still an idiot?” he croons, kissing down my chest lightly.

“My idiot,” I say with a smile, brushing his hair from his eyes which he’s been growing out lately. Eren just beams and nuzzles against me before resuming his kisses which travel farther and farther south. It’s not long before I’m tilting my head back leisurely and trying to keep my moans from spilling too far out into the hotel complex. 

When Eren seems content with his mid-afternoon dick snack, we head indoors for another round. I sit myself on the edge of the bed and Eren is close behind me, hands slowly moving down my left leg to remove the prosthetic. Everywhere he touches is followed with light feathery kisses and no scar goes untouched. 

“What do you fancy today?” I ask him. 

“Your choice?” 

“I asked first,” I retort with a smirk, pulling him up above me and into a deep kiss. His hand goes straight south beneath my shorts and I grunt appreciatively against his lips. 

“I’m still pretty loose from this morning, you can top again. I don’t feel like waiting.” 

“So impatient.” 

“You bet I am, Captain.” 

We move about a bit so Eren is on his back and I’m on my knees. I imagine this would be easier if I had two feet to balance myself but we’ve found a way to make it work with what we’ve got. There’s surprisingly little that we can’t do, actually. If you’re creative enough anything is possible. 

Anyway I’ll always love that feeling of pushing into my lover - his tight heat swallowing me whole as I thrust in and out of him. The way he moans beneath me makes me feel so pleased with myself and so much more in love with him. He’s straight up accepted me for who I am from the very first day, trapped in a burning building and horribly maimed. 

He stuck by me for multiple operations even when he didn’t even really know me, and he’s been at my side throughout the entire recovery process and more. 

“Have I told you I love you today?” I tell him as I thrust in. He groans softly against the pillow he’s gripping onto and nods his head quickly. 

“Several- uhn- times!” he grunts. I make an effort to tell him every day. You never know what might explode in your face the next day. I don’t want to go out regretting not having told him. 

It doesn’t take much longer for us both to finish, cleaning up fairly quickly and spending a long moment curled up under a thin sheet. I think I doze off for about twenty minutes before Eren’s snoring wakes me. I give him a nudge and he blearily blinks himself awake. 

“Eh?” 

“Hungry?” I ask. He nods. We get up, get dressed and get going, taking the rental car down to the beach where there is a whole array of different restaurants. Eren insists on visiting a very specific one - the one where his parents met. I have my suspicions that he’s up to something. I’m still a trained detective after all, and I can smell something fishy as soon as I enter the restaurant.

There are tea lights and roses at each table, a small live jazz band playing a cello, saxophone and a piano and the lighting is dim. The ceiling height doors overlooking the beach are all wide open and there are lots of secluded little tables and chairs under the canopies on the small decking overlooking the sea. 

“This is a nice place,” I mention when we sit down. Eren just grins. “I hope you’re not up to something…” 

“Me? Pfft!” He flaps a hand dismissively with a little shit eating grin on his face. Of course he’s up to something. I narrow my eyes at him and I can tell he’s feeling at least a sliver of nervousness. Well, if he is planning something, I’ll let him get it out. 

His anxiety however is making me anxious. 

Me anxious is always a mood ruiner. Fuck. 

We enjoy a relatively simple dinner and a glass of wine, no surprises here, followed by a walk on the sea front, again, no surprises. We get back to the hotel and while it’s been a pleasant night, nothing happened. 

“What’s up?” Eren asks me when we’re sat back on the balcony enjoying the warm breeze. 

“Just tired I guess. I enjoyed tonight.” I’m not as tired as I say. I just feel a little disappointed that Eren hadn’t used the opportunity to ask any particular questions. Fuck, had I been expecting it? 

Fuck. Have I actually asked myself how I feel about marriage? Hell, we don’t even really live together yet, maybe I’m not ready for marriage. Hell, Eren stays over five nights out of seven so I’m pretty confident we wouldn’t kill each other with the two extra days. 

Fuck, I’ve got it bad. 

“Good. You got enough energy for one more thing?” He asks, creeping over toward me on his knees. My heart almost fucking jumps out of my chest at the sight. He doesn’t appear to be holding anything though, or hiding anything behind his back. 

“Uh, depends what it is,” I tell him cautiously, keeping my eyes on his hands to make sure he doesn’t try to pull anything on me. Thankfully he just creeps closer and helps himself back into my personal space for yet another holiday induced round of balcony sex. 

When we finally get home, life returns as normal and Eren spends most of his time in my bed, joint with stalking me at work whenever he’s off but on call. He’s really enjoying living much closer to work by the looks of it. 

I am however on constant alert because of how nice Eren is being to me lately. Ever since our stupid romantic dinner, he’s been offering to give me all sorts of massages, takes me out to dinner, he brings me lunch at work and leaves all sorts of little notes around the flat for me to find on my days off. It’s endearing as fuck but I’m getting antsy in wanting to know _why_ he’s doing it. 

I’m a detective, it’s my job to figure out people’s motives and the only thing I’ve been able to deduce so far is that he’s got something he wants to ask me and wants to butter me up first. 

Speaking of buttering me up he’s delivered butter sandwiches to work today. I'm in love. 

“The little shit,” I mutter, currently stationed out in the main office room. Petra perks an eyebrow and rolls her chair over toward mine. 

“Sup, boss?” 

“Eren’s being weird.” 

“Weird how?” 

“Weird weird. Like he wants to take a shit weird.” 

“He doesn’t normally do that?” 

“He does, but- fuck, hang on. He’s acting all fucking sheepish and nice and… romantic.” 

“And that’s a problem?”

“I want to know why. It’s getting to the point where if I have to come home to another lovey dovey post-it on my fridge I’m going to straight up barf in all of Eren’s socks.” 

“You think he might be planning on proposing?” Petra wiggles her eyebrows. The whole building has ears and eyes everywhere so naturally when the word ‘proposal’ springs forth, everyone flocks over like flies to shit. 

“Of course I do!” I whisper loudly, glaring at nothing and folding my arms. 

“Do you want to marry him?” 

“Well I don’t think I’d mind but he’s taking his fucking time in asking.” 

Petra just grins at me. 

That afternoon when Eren calls and invites me out to dinner for the millionth time in three months since our holiday, something in me snaps. 

“Yeah I’ll be there I just gotta swing by the store after work,” I tell him. He doesn’t need to know _which_ store, as I wander into the jewellers. I get home and find Eren there, waiting by the front door to the complex. 

“I really gotta get you a key,” I mutter as I scan us through. Eren just grins like an idiot. “What are you so happy about?” I ask as we cross the foyer, waiting for the elevator. 

“Oh, nothing!” He sings, the noise grating on my nerves as I try to figure out what he’s up to. “You alright, Levi?” Eren asks after a little while. I hit the elevator button again and the floor number doesn't move.

“Fucking lift,” I mumble, frustrated, as I head to the stairs. Eren follows behind me after trying the button one last time. I hear him catch up to me. 

“Levi?” He tries again when we’re one floor up, taking my wrist to make me stop in the stairwell. I groan and turn to face him, my face probably the perfect picture of exasperation. 

“Did you have a rough day or?” 

“I don't think I can take it any more,” I tell him quietly, frowning when Eren’s face falls into a worried look. 

“Take what?” He asks cautiously. 

“I can't take all of this. The dinners, the massages, the lunch at work.” Suddenly Eren looks more confused than anything, but still looks ready to shit himself. 

“Uh, what are you talking about?” Eren asks. Fuck if he's not going to go for it I might as well. They say timing is everything but I’m just gonna piss him off if I keep talking. I've got to ease this tension somehow. Starting arguments with Eren gets heated, quick. 

I set my bag down and gingerly kneel down, having to lift my prosthetic shin in order to get myself down properly. I make it look as if I'm rustling through my bag.

“Are you alright?” He asks when I'm on the floor, his face a picture of concern. 

“No, Eren. You’re killing me here. I can't take the wait any longer,” I tell him as my fingers grasp the box I'd just bought, bringing it out into view. “If you take me out for one more fucking candlelit dinner I might actually puke, so just fucking marry me already.”

Eren... laughs? 

Uh...

What? Fuck. Did I totally misread this? 

Fuck.

My face has probably turned a million shades of red in my embarrassment. I can feel it for sure. Eren kneels down to my level and places his hands on my cheeks, kissing me softly with a stupid grin on that stupid face of his. 

“Do you mean it?” He asks. 

“You think I’d pick the most romantic spot in town if I didn't?” I snort, noting that we’re currently in an apartment building staircase. Shittest proposal ever. Eren just smiles and strokes my cheek with his thumb.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to move in together, but sure! I’ll marry you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! Thanks for reading! Enjoyed this? Check out my other works ^^


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